How Not To Rob A Bank

First thing’s first, we’re not hardened career criminals. Just four blokes who needed a cash boost. Tommy, Johnno, Bernie and me had been mates since we met on the bricklaying course . I was fresh from failing my A-levels (in the days when they were bloody hard), Tommy and Johnno were the same, but Scottish. Bernie was actually planning his career in the building trade – he had a business to take over eventually.

It was this business that put us in our current predicament. True enough, Bernie had inherited his dad’s business after he died, only to have absolutely no business brain. This meant the company quickly went downhill. It was on the verge of going bust when Tommy had the plan. “We can rob a bank,” he said in his thick Glaswegian accent. “I saw it done a few times when I were a kid.”

“That’s all well and good” I responded. “But how in God’s name do you suggest we get away with it?!”

So Tommy told us. First thing, you get yourself a good mask, to cover your face. Secondly, you get something scary to wave about – doesn’t have to be guns, or even real guns. Third, a reliable getaway driver in a non-descript car. Finally, you’ll need a good hideaway and trustworthy connections.

So, we got our masks. Mine was a good ski mask, two eyes and a mouth. Real menacing.  The others had similar ideas – they got exactly the same mask as me. Tommy used his slightly dodgy connections to lay his hands on a couple of fake pistols. I got my baseball bat from in the loft and knocked a few nails into it. Bernie brought his dad’s old hunting knife. Johnno got us a getaway driver. More of that later. Finally, Bernie borrowed the keys to his dad’s canal boat – he thought it would be a great idea to mix lying low with a boating trip!

We were dropped off outside the bank, and in we ran, shouting and waving our weapons about. The cashier starting filling the bags, and it was going smoothly until Johnno sneezed, and Bernie, forgetting himself, said – out loud the stupid bastard – “bless you, Johnno.”

Tommy was distracted from waving his toy gun at the manager, and cursed him. “Bernie you tit, what did we say about not using names!” This was all the manager needed, and ‘BAM’ the alarm was triggered. We legged it outside to where the car should have been. Only for the car not to be there.

Never use a taxi as a getaway car!

Jonathan M