One of the big news stories in the UK today is about a massive jewel theft. A gang of thieves got into a vault in Hatton Garden, the London jewellery quarter, and stole millions of pounds worth of diamonds. They appear to have made quite a weekend of it, with repeated visits to the vault, dressed as security guards. Oops.
My first thought was 'what happened to the alarm system'? Apparently the alarm was linked to the police station, but the police didn't respond. The reason for this is not clear. Somebody suggested that it might be because when an alarm system has triggered off a few false alarms within six months they stop prioritising it, rather like The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Be this as it may, it doesn't look good for the constabulary. Just because it was over Easter Bank Holiday weekend... you lot across the pond, stop sniggering.
Now, this is what I think about it. Those policemen thought we were still in the good old days, when a London bobby could sit in his police station with a mug of tea, a packet of digestive biscuits and a crossword, knowing that somewhere out there was a gang of enterprising kids putting all to rights.
It's the trouble with writing exciting stories for children these days. Contemporary children are brought up by responsible parents who always know where they are, give them lifts everywhere, and keep them at the end of mobile phones. How are they supposed to catch gangs of smugglers?
When I was a kid the Famous Five could have replaced the Met, the Flying Squad and the Kent Constabulary. They'd go out with a tent and a picnic and by the time they got home they'd got a whole spy network bang to rights. Emil and the Detectives? Tin-Tin? I don't recall whether William Brown and the Outlaws ever rounded up any criminals, but they could have done if they put their minds to it. I read pony stories where kids galloped away to the defence of the realm, or the village, or the gymkhana or whatever, and they didn't necessarily put their helmets on. Those were the days when you could trip up a villain with a skipping rope, knock him over the head with a lemonade bottle and tie him up with his own trouser belt. Then Max and Simmo would stand guard over him while Bootsy and Tiffers ran the two miles home or to the phone box/police station to let the grown ups know that it was all over bar the shouting.
"Woof!" said Timmy.
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2 comments:
You've restored my confidence in Hojo and Kaito (10- and 12-year-old brothers in one of my stories). I've decided they can be the ones to rescue Mable from the villain Yukio, after all. My brother said it was silly, so I was going to change that part, but now I'm not.
Also, 6-year-old Withypol has plenty of mischief to get into in the royal court of Al-Laan-Tan now.
Of course they should do it! On Mistmantle they hold on to the young lightly, so they can go off exploring all over the place. Of course, their ages aren't the same as ours.
If it feels right, write it.
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