I should know better

I notice that burglar defence guidelines are coming out. We will be told just how hard we can slap burglar Bill on the wrist, and presumably how soon his lawyer will be sueing. Well anyone who invades my home gets it regardless.

I`ve never had to see off a burglar, but I`ve dealt with iffy characters wandering about the premises "with suspicious intent". I`m very far from anywhere, and it`s all up to me.

In the old days before we became very sensitive about guns, I would get out the twelve bore. (yes I have one and yes it is absolutely legal) No, not to shoot the invader. I`ve never shot anyone, and with my shooting skills it`s a moot point whetherI would get him or a passing crow.

My previous neighbour Old Peter used to bang away at kids stealing fruit, leading to interesting experiences for them in Casualty as a constellation of long range no. 4 shot was extracted from their bahookies - a situation requiring careful handling of the local police, usually involving a bottle of Bells.

But you don`t need a loaded gun. What you need is what Terry Pratchett calls "headology"

You see, every man knows that a woman with a gun is desperately dangerous because she is quite incapable of understanding it. So you play on this. You allow your hands to shake visibly. You flick the safety off and on. You let the aim wander. A few minutes of this and either he has rather damp pants or has legged it.

I did have a burglary once, and my good neighbour from the far end of the road (as we laughingly call that collection of potholes) was first on the scene, followed by me, summoned from work, and some time later a young constable. The perp himself was long gone.

We all studied the crime scene. My neighbour was indignant.

"This sort of thing has got to be stopped. I`ll go back and get Nameless and Lavender and a couple of harnesses and we`ll soon get him."

Now I must explain that my neighbour breeds bloodhounds. Genuine working ones. The kind who never follow a line less than three hours old because it would be no challenge, and can track you down from the scent of last week`s nail paring.

He explained this to the young constable. His puddingy face lit up. He`d seen the movies. For a glorious moment he was clearly picturing himself, in dark glasses and loaded with assorted artillery, rushing through the undergrowth behind a leash of baying, savage hounds with the terrified felon just a few steps ahead................

Then his face crumpled and his shoulders sagged.

"Naw," he said regretfully. "My sergeant doesnae let me do things like that"

It`s as well he didn`t know that when a working bloodhound tracks down his quarry the victim is only in danger of being licked to death......