Nigel Benn Read Online Free PDF

which was completed with Paul and Kevin. When it came to thieving, Paul was the don of all dons. He was the offspring of a hard family and was always trying to make a few quid. He must have served his apprenticeship well because he never went short. Paul was a natural cat burglar, a real professional. We never called him a burglar, though. He was a ‘creeper’, because he so successfully crept into houses.
    He had more bottle than Express Dairies. I could never have done what he did. It made no difference to Paul if the house he had targeted was occupied. In fact, he would welcome the challenge if people were inside. How he got away with it as often as he did is a remarkable feat. He was totally fearless. He was also a good friend and would do anything for you. If you were short of money, having him around was like having your own cash dispenser. Press the right button and he’d provide funds in no time at all.
    I remember one particular night when we all wanted to go to a new club near Ilford town centre. As was usually the case, none of us had any money, so Paul crept into a house to get some cash. He was about to steal a handbag from a table when he spotted a guard dog — a massive Great Dane,with long, slimy, yellow fangs that would bring terror to the bravest heart and a gaping hole in your backside. Anybody else, faced with a savage, salivating monster of this beast’s proportions, would have given up there and then and tried another house. Not Paul.
    Instead of legging it as I would have done, he told us he was going off to find a cat and to wait for him. With that he disappeared into an adjoining garden and minutes later, magician-like, he reappeared holding a struggling ginger tom. The possibility that he might be clawed to pieces made little impact on Paul. He simply announced that this bit of fur was going to be his decoy and serve as bait for the dog.
    Paul took it back to the house and waited for the dog to attack him. That guy was so cool. Before the animal could eat him, Paul tossed the ginger cat into its path. That was too much temptation for the Great Dane. It forgot all about Paul and turned its attention to the cat which raced for the nearest fence. It might have been cruel but it was funny to watch. The poor cat looked as though it had been connected to a live cable. Its hair stood on end. It was frozen with fear. Then its instinct for survival brought it back to life and somehow it escaped the frothy jaws of the Great Dane.
    In the meantime, having effectively diverted attention away from himself, Paul crept into the house and snatched the handbag. He was about to give us a victory salute from a side door when the dog twigged what was going on and came bounding back. By this time, Paul’s body was sofull of adrenalin that he sailed over the fence like an Olympic athlete. The dog was left biting air.
    Back on the street, Paul was the hero of the moment. His daredevil display had excited and impressed us. We heaped mountains of praise on him before going off to celebrate with his dangerously acquired spoils.
    The fourth member of our group was Kevin. At 12, he was already an accomplished pickpocket. Kevin had a way with ladies’ handbags, even if they were still attached to the owner. Nature had blessed him with an innocent face. He had the cherubic expression of a choir boy and the manual dexterity of a surgeon. His fingers had become expert in separating valuable items from a secure holding and transferring the same to his back pocket.
    While beaming innocently, he would unclip a victim’s handbag and enrich himself by ten pounds or more in the process. We’d watch him work the market in Green Lanes, Ilford, where his cover would be to stand in a queue pretending to buy apples or other goods. Even if he was caught red-handed , his innocent looks would get him off the hook. All he would suffer was a stern warning and, providing he bit his bottom lip and hung his head in shame, they’d let him