Mrs P and I have not been spared the inconvenience of such unsavoury criminal activity either.
Unfortunately, we seem to have been targeted for vehicular break-in. Or more particularly our little old runabout we've had for a hundred years has.
This is frustrating for a number of reasons.
Number one, it seems pointless.
The vehicle is very obviously an old dunger worth about $200. We use it to cart stuff to the dump. Any fool peering through the windows would see there's never anything of value in it. Unless, of course, the Solid Gold Hits Volume 17 cassette tape (remember those) stuck in the player is worth a few bob.
Number two, to gain access the little s***s, er, I mean larrikins, smashed a piddly little rear quarter glass window and they are hard to locate.
I know. I've had to find a replacement three times now.
The guy at the wreckers told me after the last one he'd now run out of quarter glass for my car. From here on in I'm on my own unless he miraculously gets in another old RAV4 Toyota.
With the worrying prospect of further break-in attempts potentially leaving little Ravvy exposed to the elements with resulting potential damage to internal organs, I have increased security at our humble abode.
By next week I hope to have the moat around the house completely dug out and filled.
The crocodiles are being shipped in from Africa the following week.
I'm joking of course. I think the moat might take me a bit longer. Boom, boom.
Kidding aside, I have taken to parking the car in a more open position so I have a clear view of anyone poking around in the vicinity.
And it has already paid dividends.
So, there I was the other night just locking up and turning the lights off when something made me look outside.
It was a good job I did.
There, sneaking around the car was one of the aforementioned little s***s, er, I mean larrikins.
I sprang into action.
"Hold it right there!" I boomed in my best authoritarian voice while simultaneously bearing down on the figure. "What are you up to?"
To say he was somewhat taken aback was an understatement.
"Er, I'm looking for my cat," he stammered.
I wasn't having any of that. A likely story, I thought as I closed to within a metre of the figure.
"Where are you from?" I barked, the adrenaline pumping as I considered whether I needed to manhandle him and make some sort of citizen's arrest.
"Umm. I'm your neighbour from next door," he croaked.
You know that feeling you get in your stomach when the plane you are in suddenly drops? Well, that's what happens when adrenaline suddenly runs out of your body and
embarrassment rushes in to fill the gap. The "villain" was, in fact, my neighbour. To make matters worse he's a rather pleasant young man. Certainly not a little s***, er, I mean larrikin.
I made my apologies. Ensured his heart rate was back to normal and bade him a good evening. Then I went in, told Mrs P and sat there cringing as she practically wet herself laughing.
To make matters worse she reminded me it was not the first time I'd been too quick to leap into action.
Years ago, in the big smoke, I'd encountered similar vehicle break-in issues in a block of flats I had moved into only days before and was just about at the end of my tether when I heard a noise outside.
I was in the kitchen at the time and grabbed the nearest thing I could lay my hands on, which happened to be a rolling pin.
Thus armed I yanked open the door and jumped out on to the driveway, practically landing on a young bloke who was basically in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I grabbed him with my free arm by the scruff of his neck and waved the rolling pin at him with the other hand.
"I'm looking for Jimmy's party," he stammered.
Unimpressed by the obvious excuse from a would-be thief, I hauled him back up the driveway to the road as he protested loudly. I'm ashamed to admit it but I found a use for the rolling pin and it didn't involve flattening out any pastry.
After what seemed like an age we reached the road and I booted him up his backside as he ran off.
Satisfied order had been restored I marched back down to my flat, put the rolling pin back in the kitchen and sat down in front of the telly.
About 20 minutes later there was a knock on the front door. I opened it to find a friendly-looking chap standing there, smiling.
"G'day mate," he said, offering his hand. "I'm Jimmy from next door. I'm having a party tonight if you fancy coming over."
Footnote: Many thanks to the readers who got in touch offering solutions to the turmeric stain problem on my new bathroom ceiling and wall. Rest assured each suggestion has been tried and tested. Sadly our yellow/orange stain is still there. We plan to make a claim on the insurance. Keep your ears open. If you hear laughter emanating from a call centre somewhere it might be us they are dealing with.