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Ever since Eve allegedly stole an apple in the Garden of Eden, thieving has a part of everyday life, even when you don’t think you are doing anything wrong. If you have read my new book, Primary School Confidential, you would know that I did some despicable things with regards to stealing. My parents congratulated me on my entrepreneurial skills blossoming at an early age, but snatching the contents of the chapel plate during a fundraiser for bicycles for PNG, saw me hit a new low.

One of my siblings, who shall remain nameless, once stole something from a local shop. Mum found out and marched said sibling back to the shop to return said item and to deliver a full confession. She then took said sibling up to the Police Station where another confession was extracted before sibling was put in the slammer for ten minutes to think about their actions. Holy fuck indeed! Parenting done right. harsh, but right. Oh the Eighties, you were nothing if not extreme in every single way.

There is pure, evil, intentional, pre-meditated stealing, and then there is opportunity theft. Take last week, when I was spending a few nights at the QT Hotel in Bondi. My bathroom was stocked with a gorgeous shampoo/conditioner/bodywash and moisturiser range from the USA called (Malin+Goetz). You need to put it in () because that is how it is officially spelt. Anyway, each day I would swipe the lot and whack it into my luggage, just because. And now I have many, many little tubes of the stuff that I can give to house guests so they do not have to endure dried up cake soap in the shower, that may or may not have a pube stuck to it. I am being thoughtful, you see. A thoughtful thief.

And then there is the grocery shopping, where I always steal a grape to determine whether a purchase of a bag of grapes will take place. I am pretty sure I am not the only one that does this… am I right? (Don’t leave me hanging people….) I also tend to drink a small Chocolate Moove while touring the isles and pay for the empty container at the checkout, quite often praying to the Westpac Gods that there is actual money in that account and that I don’t get hauled off to the Police Station for dairy theft.

And then there is even a different level of theft. Bin theft. Or space theft? This happened twice yesterday.

I had taken Isobel for a long walk and since I have made the biggest song and dance about picking up dog shit in our area, I am now paranoid about being sprung standing by her as she lays a cable on the sidewalk and I am sans bag. So she backs one out a few blocks away, and I pick it up *dry wretch* and continue walking, holding a bag of steaming hot turd which is NOT enjoyable. As it was bin night, a few were out and I needed to offload that shit. I walked on, until I saw a bin out the frontĀ of a house that looked like it’s owners were not home. With the agility of a cat burglar crossed with a baby hippo, I deposited Isobel’s deposit in said bin, and high-tailed it out of there.

StealingĀ bin space. Is this ok?

Later in the evening, I gave Mr. Woog our traditional Sunday Night Trash Bag, full of superfluous household crap, just as the sun went down. He is tasked with an even more dangerous pursuit. That is to do some serious space theft, to fill up an unsuspecting neighbours bin. A neighbour, whom by every right should be proud of the fact that they are not creating much rubbish, but who are in turn, doing the Woogs a big favour. So far, he has never been caught. (Touches all the wood….. that would be embarrassing and we would most certainly have to move.)

Have you ever stolen anything? ANYTHING!

Was it spur of the moment, or pre-meditated?

And while we are all being honest, have you ever been in the slammer?