I watched closely with a cynical smile playing on my lips from the opposite side of a compartment on a train destined for London Kings Cross. A hand leaves the pocket of a man feigning sleep unless, of course he hand walks. His hand skitters across the small gap to an old woman sharing the same green leather sofa who is snoring loudly to herself, her head tilted back and chest expanding and contracting every eight seconds or so.

The hand crouches and remains stationary, like a spider ready to launch its self upon an unwary fly. The man with the adventurous hand pries a translucent blue eye open to see where his hand is in scale to the aged woman’s purse. This man looks around thirty, a tweed cap pulled over his forehead holding back substantial brown hair.

I felt the need to intervene and swung my cane suddenly from my side and brought it heavily down on the unsuspecting poised hand. It was crushed below the metal tip of the cane and the other eye of the man opposite shot open, his face going red rapidly and contrasting profoundly with his bright blue eyes. Spittle erupted from his mouth as he tried desperately to stop himself screaming.

His head turned slowly to me as a tear trickled down his cheek, his lips clamped shut. I extracted my cane from the back of his hand and returned it to my side. The man, who I can now tell you goes by the name Jack Strength hugged his hand lovingly to his mouth and blew on it urgently. I got his attention again by kicking him in the shins and motioned that he swapped places with me so I could show him how it’s really done. We silently spun into one another’s places, me slapping him as we met in the middle. I sat down next to the elderly woman, tucking my tails beneath me as I sat down comfortably.

I slipped a pistol from my inside pocket pressed it to the woman’s temple and slapped her with my free hand on the opposite cheek. Her snoring stopped at last and was exchanged for a terrified squeal when she realised where she was, a well dressed teenage petty thief sat next to her with a dangerous thing and opposite was Jack, looking as gormless as ever.

“Good evening Ma’am,” I said interrupting her in mid scream. “This pistol here does work so screaming doesn’t go unpaid for.” Her mouth sunk unhappily as her eyes swivelled as far as they could to see me out the corner of her eye, all colour drained from her face. “All I would like from you is the few pieces of paper in your pocket, is that so much to ask?”

“Um… well,” she moaned, her eyes filling with tears.

“Good, I didn’t think so!”