I'd left home with fuck all and was stranded in Melbourne on the bones of my arse. No money, no job and not much hope. Never been over the mainland before. So I got into a caper or two. Surviving but only just.
After a couple of close shaves with the local coppers, I got talking to a bloke in a pub. He boasted about all the busts he'd done and got away with. Especially how good he was at knocking off motors. A bloody expert.
I cased this other pub out. You go up a flight stairs off the street and the cash register is nearest the door end of the bar. Saw how the barman used the till. Worked it all out.
I arranged for my mate to be at the pub entrance at a certain time with the kind of a hotwire job he said he was good at. And the motor running. No fuckin sweat, he tells me. Trust me.
It goes off like a dream. I wait near the door until the barman rings up a sale right on the nick of time. He turns to the other end of the bar, I race in and ring up a number and the drawer springs out. Bingo!
I rip it out of the machine head for the door and down the steps and where's my great mate? He's there alright.
In the back of a taxi!
What could I do? What else could you do? I jump in the getaway.
I tell the cabbie to scoot which he does. He didn't seem to know what was going on.
Out of town we piss him off and dump the swag in a gully or somewhere.
Next day there's a newspaper report on how the cash drawer was found with the take intact. It was thousands.
Never trust another mug.
After a couple of close shaves with the local coppers, I got talking to a bloke in a pub. He boasted about all the busts he'd done and got away with. Especially how good he was at knocking off motors. A bloody expert.
I cased this other pub out. You go up a flight stairs off the street and the cash register is nearest the door end of the bar. Saw how the barman used the till. Worked it all out.
I arranged for my mate to be at the pub entrance at a certain time with the kind of a hotwire job he said he was good at. And the motor running. No fuckin sweat, he tells me. Trust me.
It goes off like a dream. I wait near the door until the barman rings up a sale right on the nick of time. He turns to the other end of the bar, I race in and ring up a number and the drawer springs out. Bingo!
I rip it out of the machine head for the door and down the steps and where's my great mate? He's there alright.
In the back of a taxi!
What could I do? What else could you do? I jump in the getaway.
I tell the cabbie to scoot which he does. He didn't seem to know what was going on.
Out of town we piss him off and dump the swag in a gully or somewhere.
Next day there's a newspaper report on how the cash drawer was found with the take intact. It was thousands.
Never trust another mug.
