Rupert Goodwins' Diary

Monday 24/11/2003One of young Rupert's biggest disappointments on coming to crime-ridden London from the peace and quiet of the Devonian countryside was how thick most of the criminals were. Brought up to expect thieves' kitchens stuffed with Dickensian villains scheming complex bank blags, the sorry fact soon became plain that most crims take to the life of naughtiness because they're too darn dumb to do anything else.

Monday 24/11/2003
One of young Rupert's biggest disappointments on coming to crime-ridden London from the peace and quiet of the Devonian countryside was how thick most of the criminals were. Brought up to expect thieves' kitchens stuffed with Dickensian villains scheming complex bank blags, the sorry fact soon became plain that most crims take to the life of naughtiness because they're too darn dumb to do anything else. We'll pass over what this implies about the Metropolitan Police and their clear-up rate.

However, today's star perpetrator takes the biscuit -- or he would if he could work out how to open the packet. Displaying a rather paradoxical mix of astuteness and sheer stupidity, a Canadian, Walter Nowakowski, decided that the best way to satisfy his desire for child pornography was to drive around with his laptop until he found an open Wi-Fi connection. You can see the logic -- an untraceable connection and the means for a quick getaway means minimal risk. Why would anyone pay attention to a chap quietly sitting in a car, after all?

Alas, the temptation to sample the wares proved too strong for our criminal mastermind. Overexcited by the success of his venture, he dropped his trousers and took matters in hand. And, just in case this too would escape the attention of the Royal Canadian Mounted Nonce-Nabbers, he proceeded to drive at the same time in the wrong direction down a one-way street.

As this was all in the early hours of the morning, he stood out like a, how shall I put it, sore thumb. The mighty machinery of justice swung into action, and subsequently found a huge stash of the wrong sort of bitmap at Mr Nowakowski's home.  He is, as they say, goin' daaahn.

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