A Buyers Market

Jim:

It was Jez that taught me the scam, it was foolproof, and if anyone knew foolproof it was Jez. He was jacking cars even before we dropped out of school, what a player! He even gave me the start up I needed to get on the road, "mate's money. £3 grand it took, "spend money to make money he said, and if I played it right I'd be able to pay him off in no time, start making my own cash. He put me on the first rung of the ladder, what are mates for? "Easy Money he said, the two words every geezer loves to hear. I was to take the 3 grand and buy myself a second hand motor. Nothing fancy or flash just a bog standard car that I knew I could sell on.

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Now the first thing Jez taught me was not to leave a paper trail, so I found myself a nice looking estate in the free ads of the local rag. Haggle a bit, wind him up, make him think I'd wasted his time. That way when I finally bought it off him I could mess him about some more. Put him under some pressure and make him mess up, "Bit of a hurry, sign em later, pop um back round after work, nice one, sucker! As far as the old bill was concerned my new car was still the proud property of Joe Blogg, moron from round the corner. His problem, not mine.

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Now it was my turn to be the seller. I robbed myself a mobile phone from a merc parked round the back of the dog and duck, and placed my own ad in the paper using my new number; "Escort Estate, great condition, £4000 cash, quick sale. A few days later I've got myself a bite and I've parked up the car on some driveway of an empty house, waiting for the fella to come and look it over. Chap looks it over, calls me a joker and laughs that I think I can get £4000 out of him. I haggle, let the old boy think he's playing me and eventually I give him it at a steal for £3000. He's a right pushy one though, wants to know mileage, tread on the tyres, spare in the boot, allsorts. So I up-sell it, tell him what he wants to hear, "I've got a Haynes manual for it and a body kit. A body kit on an estate, honestly! But he fell for it. I tell you if Jez could have seen me! The guy was falling for every line I fed him, and then finally the last lie. The most important one of all¦ I told him that if he wasn't happy after a few days of driving it around he could bring it back, my address was right there on the papers anyway and we're stood right outside my girlfriend's house. What a great deal-breaker! Who could refuse that? What has he got to lose? "Ker-ching, £3000 cash in hand.

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Ok so you're thinking, where's the gain? £3000 spent £3000 earned, hardly a cash-cow is it? But here's the clever part. Mr body kit was so eager to get the most blood from the stone that he gave me his address, "drop the kit round at the weekend, yes and the Haynes manual, oh might even have some turtle wax you could have. No use to me now. And there it is; the master plan Jez had taught me. I'm stood on some random driveway on the wrong side of town with an address in one hand and a spare key in the other. Simple but affective; all the fun of robbing cars with twice the pay check and none of the agro. All I had left to do was pick up the car and take it back to Jez. He'd flog it on and I'd get a cut of the money, sorted! Run the same scam a few times and my debts cleared and I'm in the money.

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So cutting to the chase I'm cruising down the dual carriageway in my reacquired escort, and a flash of blue fills my mirrors, "Oh No it's the pigs! OK Calm down, can't be for me I only just robbed the car no way could he report it that fast no way! I slow the car down and pull over to the left to let them pass, but they don't pass do they, the bastards are sat up my ass flashing and hounding on the horn. "I'm screwed. Stealing a car, I'm looking at what 3 years tops, surely. Jez might even be able to pull some strings, get me a lawyer, he knows allsorts, riffraff to bigwigs, all the way up, Jez will see me good, out in 9 months for good behaviour.

Anyways I pull the car over and sit still in the car wondering if they know its not mine. I'm giving it "yes officer, no officer, 3 bags full officer and they're talking down to me like a piece of dirt. Perfect luck, of all the cops in the city I have to get a TJ Hooker wannabe, punk! He wants to run the car through the works, checking the tread on my tyres, the lights on my dash, he even gives the bumper a good kick to make sure it's on right, Shatner wannabe even wants to check the spare! "Certainly officer I'd love to open the boot for you¦.

"What the hell is that?...

You see the three words 'get rich quick' are often too hasty an inspiration to men like me, and more often then not lead you straight down a path to the big house. Men like me steal cars, not smuggle copious amounts of heroin.

But still who's likely to believe me. Spend £3k to make £3k, hardly a convincing testimony is it?