We're never short of criminal drama up here in Crique-le-bois, but the past few weeks have really taken the biscuit.

Episode 1: Burglars steal my bike
My bicycle was stolen from my house on 14 December. We've long had a dodgy lock on the front door, and so someone snatched my bike from the front hall. This was upsetting enough, but it was only the beginning of a ridiculous saga. 

Episode 2: Teenagers try to kick my door down
A week after the bike theft, while working at home, I looked out of my kitchen window to see a bunch of very suspicious-looking hoodies loitering outside my flat. Before I knew what was happening one of them was trying to kick down the front door - in broad daylight! They were after Jon's (flatmate) bike, obviously a return attack thinking I had got something new on the insurance. The police, to their credit, arrived very quickly, but I had scared off the hoodies. Credit to the police ends there - due to the fact that nothing had actually been damaged, the cops refused to record this as a crime, instead logging it as an "incident". That a theft had taken place the week before didn't seem to interest them. Idiots.

Episode 3: Criminal neighbours
I got over the shock and had a somewhat nervous Christmas. January came, and I was standing in my kitchen when I glanced out of the window. Imagine my surprise when I spotted my stolen bike! There it was, lying in the dodgy garage across the road. I could not believe what I was seeing. The garage had long been a hub of highly suspicious activity, and now all was clear: a gang of local hoodies was stealing bikes to order, and the garage was receiving the stolen goods to be fixed up and resprayed prior to resale. In a display of stupidity hitherto not though possible, the garage carelessly left my bike on full display. I brought in the police and provided them with a detailed description of the bike - its markings, all the little modifications I had made. 

The stolen bike in the dodgy garage;
this man's presence was of course entirely coincidental.

By day: the shutters are closed
to conceal criminal operations

The shutters on the dodgy garage were mostly closed, so there was a wait of a few days before the police would go in to investigate. A return visit from the police: they sent a pair of 12-year-olds, uniformed rookies who went over to the garage and then brought the bike back to me in full view of the garage owner.

That was stupid move number one: now the garage gang know who grassed them up and I am consequently living in fear of my life. Stupid move number two: the police then went away without even looking inside the large, suspicious, unmarked Transit van which was sitting in the garage. Nice work, constables.

About 20 minutes after the police visit, two shady-looking men arrived to hastily drive the Transit van away, presumably full of a haul of stolen bikes. Where were the super-sleuth cops? Fortunately for the criminal community, the Met's resources were all taken up guarding Tony Blair during his war crimes trial. They picked a good day to shift stolen goods.

The policeman who was on my case was an absolute star, a really decent copper and possibly the only PC on the force with a functioning brain. He phoned up to discuss the case - looking over the events, he realised it should have been treated as a crime in the first place, and apologised profusely that the case had been "botched from the start". I got an apology from the Metropolitan Police - result!

I hear on the local grapevine that a gang of hoodies who live on the council estate up the road spent Christmas in jail for stealing bikes from people's houses - they sound familiar! The garage owner seems to have got new business tenants in, ostensbily running an actual car repair business rather than handling stolen bikes, but I shall be watching them.

As for me, I am living a nervous life, avoiding the dodgy garage people and wearing hats quite a lot. Will I get lynched by a rampaging mob of mechanics wielding Halfords ratchet spanners?

I've had enough. I am getting out of London.