How To Hide From The Police

I went back round to Good King Thumpo's last night and no one answered. I broke in again and the place looked like it hadn't been touched (hard to tell with the mess though). Ma-Mutt was chained up outside looking hungry. I gave him some hard loaf off the sideboard and he yummed it up in a few mouthfuls. He still had a big hungry look on his face so I gave him a packet of Hob Nob's that were in a Spar bag along with 2 litres of milk that goes out of date tomorrow.

I went inside and back upstairs to have a better look if anything was different. There was a knock at the door. I snuck a look out the window to see it was the peelers. He was by himself. He knocked for ages. I crept to the other side of the house and looked out to make sure there weren't cops round there.

Did someone see me break in? Had someone else called the cops on Good King Thumpo and his nasty snuff loving ways? Or was the cop there on account of some other misdemeanor?

I moved slowly and quietly back into Good King Thumpo's bedroom and waited and watched the cop walk off. I waited for a while to see if he'd come back. Then I bolted out of the back door and ran the fuck home.

Where is Good King Thumpo?

Does Real Snuff Exist?

After the reactions to yesterday's post. I started to think that I did have a responsibility to do something. I was thinking about it all day yesterday and couldn't really sleep last night. The Punchbowl Girl asked me what was wrong so I told her. She said that she thought he was talking shit but she'd been thinking about it too.

That made my mind up for me. I woke up early today and went round to talk to him. Good King Thumpo lives in a shitty wee terrace on a street off Sandy Row. I've only every been there once years ago. I couldn't rightly remember which house was his until I saw Ma-Mutt chained up in his garden. I jumped the fence and knocked on his door. Ma-Mutt growled at me but I Crocodile Dundeed him into silence.

There was no answer from the house so I bust in (still have the knack). The place was a mess. Good King Thumpo lives on his own and the only thing in the kitchen that let you know it was a kitchen was the cooker, he didn't even have a fridge (which explained all the nasty moudly food on the work tops). What he did have was a load of half dismantled microwaves, TVs and a Motorbike. A walk round the other rooms showed the same thing. His bedroom was full of weightlifting equipment (surprisingly no signs of steroid needles) and Geoff Thompson books about how to violent maim people who are attacking you and which is the best room in the house to hide weapons (incase someone breaks in). Scary shit. But he wasn't anywhere in the house. I waited until I had no choice but to head off to work.

I'm not calling the cops, I'm not a tout. Not unless there's some evidence he's telling the truth.