Quite a few years ago when I was in my garden having a fag, I heard a bit of a commotion coming from one of the gardens down the road so I legged it upstairs to look out of the window.

Some daft apeth had broken into a house a few doors down, the house owned by a man we only knew as 'The boxer'. I used to see him shadow boxing in his garden, all we really knew about him was that he was hard as fucking nails.

He was pummelling the burglar against his fence, full on battering him, like something out of a film, it was fantastic (I'm not normally a fan of violence but we'd had a lot of break ins). The robber managed to squirm away eventually and fence hop a few times then escaped into the estate.

The police came door knocking later to ask if we'd found any jewellery in our garden or if we'd seen/heard, unfortunately this was during my jobless drug addict phase, I immediately regretted inviting them in. TWO WHOLE HOURS of me trying to give them a statement absolutely off my tits was not fun.

As they were packing up and my high began to wear off I remembered I'd actually taken a photo of the burglar as he legged it through out garden.

One of the coppers looked like he wanted to punch me.