For the last few months, the van has been parked outside my flat with two pathetic back locks. They are so flimsy you could literally break them with a good pair of pliers. There’s never anything of obvious value in the van though. Flats and scaffolding. Boxes of random shit that would be meaningless to your average kid trying to work out how to fund his K habit. I frequently leave them completely unlocked because they were almost completely rusted through when I took custody of the van, so I don’t feel comfortable locking them in case they stick that way, and I don’t want the work of busting them open considering the reward is a bunch of mdf and a “Best of opera” vinyl collection. The window above the cab has never sealed properly anyway, so anyone dedicated can get in.
“WeyHEY lads lads lads this vaaaan ain’t locked!!” “Get it open get it open! Jammo da boyyyy!!!” “It’s OPEN!! It’s full of … WOOD! NO IT’S NOT WOOD. BUT THERE’S THIS BOX FULL OF … BOOKS!” “Da fukk Jammo?? Wot are bookz?”
Nobody wants anything I’m carrying, aside from the people I’m carrying it for. Plus, frankly, we are all made to feel less secure than we are as a matter of rote. Because security is a huge industry. Being burgled has got to be foul – it’s a betrayal of safety. It shifts your trust. And it does occasionally happen. I remember friends of mine being burgled at uni. Horrible. Such an invasion. But security and insurance companies capitalise on our shared worst experiences and memories, and monetise paranoia, and of course they’re playing the odds but they’re doing it successfully and making millions off us and if you need to make a claim you better be ready to give them more than you can afford. I pay almost £200 per month for a £300 car. Insurance brokers should be boiled in their own diarrhoea.
You can see where it started, that insurance industry. It’s taking money from people who think they’re important enough that bad things are more likely to happen to them than to someone else. It’s a thinking pattern I see with my friends. In this case, No! Fuck you. You are more likely to be targeted if you’re suspicious. Stet.
If I was desperate and had stolen before and you treated me like I was trying to rob you while I was working for you for fuck all and your internal distrust was making it infinitely harder for me, I’d be less inclined to choose to like you. And liking is a choice. And if you’re inclined to be a bastard to others you still need to justify it unless you’re insane. In order to be able to hurt someone it is necessary to mildly dehumanise them first. If you can think of them as lesser beings then you can dismiss them. And a great way of justifying that dismissal is “they don’t think of ME as human but I know I am human.”
Although it’s worth mentioning I once used this line of reasoning to try to understand how a very ordinary human being might have justified an action that had a negative effect on my dayjobbing.
But anyway today I went to B&Q and bought some reinforced padlocks to use versus Margate. Better than the rusted gossamer ones I found on the van.
The last time I parked on this road in Margate some idiot tried to open the driver door of my jag with a screwdriver, failed but bent the fuck out of it. It was my vehicle so I didn’t mind so much despite the insurance cost (because I’m an actor).
This time it’s not my vehicle. I’ve learnt that Margate is much worse than Chelsea for pointless crime. In London there’s no point doing anything without a profit motive. “We’ve broken into into the van!” “What’s in it?” “Fuck all mate. Records and books. Amazon are restricting record sales. The books are shit, I bar coded them. We should’ve filmed ourselves breaking in. We make more money per second instsgramming than we could off this shit. Come on. I’ll punch you, you film it, and it’ll go viral.”
But weirdly, I feel I need proper locks here than I do in London. So we bought some.