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Poetic justice


laurenceb

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Poetic justice indeed. It reminds me of the pre-mobile phone days when the majority of us relied on coin operated phones in red phone boxes. One of the local yobs decided to smash up the box on our estate. Ripped out the phone handset then set to work smashing the windows. Unfortunately for him he cut his arm on the broken glass. By the time an ambulance could be sent for the idiot was semi-conscious through blood loss. A prime candidate for a Darwin award.

 

It may seem odd to younger readers that people used to walk the streets without staring at a mobile phone or carrying a cup of coffee, or both. Those red telephone boxes that are disappearing from the streets used to have a telephone in them. You may not believe this but the idea was the a user could put money into a slot in a box and the phone started working for a set amount of time. Hardly anyone had a telephone in their home, what was the point? You only had to walk a quarter mile or so to the phone box, they were very convenient. Ask your grandparents about it.

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Wandering off topic slightly...

 

When I first started work at Sutton station (early-mid 80s), a teenager managed to cut his hands and legs on some razor wire. He had scaled the wall separating Platform 1 from the pub on the street above wanting to avoid paying his fare.

Next day, his thug of a father turned up at the station and punched one of the ticket collectors. Obviously, in thug's tiny mind, that was some kind of payback for what had happened to his son.

Bad move. Ticket collector was Pat Mulholland, a gentle giant if ever there was one. Hands the size of hams, like something from a cartoon...

Pat didn't even blink when he was punched, but I do remember when Pat punched the guy back, he was down and out for a full 15 minutes. Pat just dragged him out of the way and carried on checking tickets.

Now that's poetic justice...

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Thinking back to the old days, I wonder how little I spent on phonecalls in a year compared with standing charges today on a Mobile. Phoning for midwife 1962 tuppence. Again in 1963 threepence (once I found a box that wasn't vandalised)...I seem to remember the phone had gone all modern with direct dialling costing 3d.

 

Just read the OP's link. Antisocial behaviour letters to parents? Is that all? No criminal damage court?

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I was allowed to travel into and around Central London, on my own, from the age of nine.  I was expected to catch a train back home before five o'clock.  Three conditions: I had to memorise our telephone number (66 25755), know how to use a payphone and, if I hadn't rung home, return four unused pennies when I arrived back.

 

As you would expect, I did a circuit of the termini: Liverpool Street (1), Kings Cross, St Pancras, Euston (2) and Waterloo.

 

(1) soon dropped - end of steam

(2) soon dropped - rebuilding work

 

Bill

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When I was living in a tower block in one of the less popular parts of Edinburgh, we had trouble with somebody urinating in the lift - the culprit, as far as I know, was never caught. Another problem (perhaps linked to the urine) was that the lift electrics failed regularly. When this happened with me on board, I wasn't too worried about being stuck - the caretaker was efficient and prompt to answer the alarm. What did worry me was that I had been hurrying home in urgent need of the toilet, and if the chap had been a few minutes longer in arriving, the door might have opened to me standing shame-faced in a pool of piddle while the caretaker pointed an accusing finger: "Ah-ha! It was you all the time!"

If ever I acquire a police record, I want it to be for something more glamorous than peeing in a public place.

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Would they be better pursuing it as a Civil Case for the full costs, rather than the Criminal courts arbitrary figure plucked out of the air (as it appears in the local papers "scales of Justice" column anyway)?

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