A man caught by a high-tech police trap that turned his arms and face bright green under ultra-violet light has been convicted of stealing from a car. Yafet Askale, 28, was sentenced to a community order yesterday after being marked by a SmartWater anti-theft device in a booby trapped car set up by police He broke into the vehicle, which was left in Harlesden, northwest London, and was later found by police with items stolen from inside, including a laptop. Officers hunted him down after the system automatically alerted them to the theft on June 10 this year; ultra-violet scans showed that his face and jacket were heavily marked with the liquid. He pleaded not guilty before magistrates but was found guilty of theft from a motor vehicle, and sentenced to 49 hours of community work and £400 costs. SmartWater, and a dumb crook pleading not guilty to his obvious guilt…
Here lies the problem… The punishment falls woefully short of what could be described as true punishment. £400- costs does not even cover the court costs proper, nor does it cover the time consumed by the police force setting up the sting. On top of which, 49 hours community service actually costs the tax payer far more than what is received in benefit. My preferred punishment would be six months in prison (time used by the Home Office to sort out the paperwork for deportation, that includes a life long exclusion order), and a £2000- fine, taken from the sale of personal items or private property owned by the miscreant. Yours Aye.
The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God (and in written form)… The Geen Eye of the Little Yellow God J. Milton Hayes
My profuse apologies to one and all for the shortfall of browsing material. Unfortunately today has been spent pushing an elephant up the stairs. It started this morning just after I opened the mail, one letter of which was from my power supply company dated ‘Thursday 22nd August 2013′ Delivered four weeks late?
“Due to essential maintenance in your area the power supply to your property will be cut off between the hours of 9-am to 4:30-pm on Thursday 12th September. We are sorry for any inconvenience this will cause“
Just then the power chopped, plunging the house into total silence, the water boiling in the kettle, ebbed and died, the sliced bread in the toaster remained as sliced bread, the morning news popped off, and came back on as the early evening news. My mobile phone that was down to 33% remained so, until the magical national grid button was pressed once more.
Thank you apple for inventing the ten hour battery ipad, the device kept me sane throughout the day. My canine pals would also like to thank my power company, as they thoroughly enjoyed their additional field time. (Truth be known, so did I, it was a great break totally unexpected) Yours Aye.
“I’m a Spitfire pilot”. Almost a chat up line from the 1940′s, uttered by a youthful ‘ex public school boy’ pilot with a life expectancy of just fourteen days. Except Matt Jones uttered those words just a few days ago, as he took on the challenge of racing a Super Marine Spitfire against a Range Rover Sport, as part of the promotion for the Goodwood Festival of Speed. Given the chance, I know which seat I would rather be strapped in.
I am a good ‘Sport’ when it comes to challenges, but I am also an ex-’Marine’ and there sits my loyalty! The Battle of British engineering! Which icon of design came first in a race between a Spitfire and a Range Rover? Besides, I can ride in a Range Rover Sport any day of the week, my childhood dream would be ticked off with a flight in a Spitfire. ‘Bandits six-o-clock, tally-ho chaps’! Yours Aye.
Blogging has been light due to preparation for the last class I have left before my last qual (emphasis on last.) The plan is to leverage this very particular set of classes in military acquisition into credits towards a Masters degree. That said, I must submit my material and hopefully the university board will agree with me.
I studied and went through the classwork today at my home away from home, Panera Bread. And when I could sit there no longer, I went to my local hippie coffee place. In what could only be described as a toe-curling (toe-curdling?) experience, a poetry grad student read her work to her professor one table over from me. I have selectively chosen to forget what I heard. Poetry is best left to the pros who can craft literary nectar as if whispered to by the Gods. In honor of the amateur poetess, I will leave you with this piece of Russian music by Anna Akhmatova, Along the Hard Crust:
Along the hard crust of deep snows,
To the secret, white house of yours,
So gentle and quiet – we both
Are walking, in silence half-lost.
And sweeter than all songs,
Are this dream,
becoming the truth,
a-nodding with favor,
The light ring of your silver spurs…
Thank you Anna. Poetry, best left to experts.
On my speeding
Over the grey
To join others
And as one
They slide glide
And turn to drops
To fall fall