Smooth criminals: my love affair with pub's founders after laptop theft

17-Oct-2011 - Last updated on 11-Mar-2017 at 22:17 GMT

Related tags Theft Laptop

Moving on: Pete Brown will continue to support pubs despite theft

I’ve written a great deal over the past eight years about how much I love pubs, about how I see the pub as the crucible of everything that’s good about humanity: the warmth, good cheer and democracy, the benign anarchy, the hint of surrealism, the tradition, the freedom, the flexibility, the comfort, and, of course, the beer.

Today I see pubs as dens of thieves and bastards.

The other day I had my laptop lifted out of my bag in a local pub. It was under a large table that was never left unoccupied. At some point, someone went under this table, took the laptop from my bag, and either put it in their own bag or walked off with it in plain view.

And no, I didn’t back up. And yes, I know I should have. And yes, that does mean I have lost everything on the three books I’m currently working on, and going back to the beginning, to start again. Just as soon as I have had my external hard drive repaired, and set up online back-up.

I spent five hours watching CCTV footage of the table, which is smack in the middle of the pub security camera’s field of vision — you can even see a little way under the table, though the bag itself is not in view. I watched from the point where I arrived and put the bag down, to the point where I came back, picked the bag up, and stood frozen for 10 seconds, staring into space.

At no point did I see anyone go under the table, or put something in a bag, or walk away with a laptop. You have to hand it to these evil scum, these life-destroying pond life — they’re very good at what they do.

I’ve spoken to several publicans since it happened, and they all have stories. The guy who strode into the pub wearing bike leathers and a crash helmet, and simply reached over the bar, took the manager’s laptop and walked out again. The guy who walked in, clocked a table, went over to it and pretended to read a menu while he dragged a bag towards him with his foot, then picked it up.

The guy who approaches your table and asks if you want to buy a T-shirt, holding the garment in front of you so you can’t see him lifting your phone from the table.
A good publican knows these vermin and how they operate. A good publican puts bag hooks under the tables, and plasters signs all over the walls warning customers that thieves operate in the area, and trains staff to be vigilant, to spot them as soon as they come in.

And idiots like me still cheerfully ignore all this good advice and good intention, and leave phones on tables as we pop to the loo, and bags with purses on the backs of chairs, and laptops with irreplaceable content in plain view, begging to be nicked. We kind of deserve what we get.

Apart from the devastating loss of my work, the worst thing about this is that I am now suspicious and paranoid when I walk into a pub. Every punter is a potential thief. It’s tarnished my love affair with the great British boozer. But I think this will be temporary.

The consolation in what has happened is the way people have rallied round. I posted a description of the laptop on Twitter (MacBook Pro, 15in screen, scratch down the left-hand side of the lid, slightly bent data port) and hundreds of people retweeted it. They flooded me with advice about possible back-ups and recovery, asked if there was anything they could do (I even had offers of volunteers to help re-do the lost research) or simply shared their sympathy and asked if I was okay.

So I think the paranoia will pass, quickly, because beer and pub people are wonderful people. Beer is the most sociable drink in the world, and pubs are special places, and good people are attracted to this. In the end, as I set up my new laptop, start reloading all my CDs onto it, and face the prospect of completing my new book from scratch in four months, my newly careful and cautious self loves pubs more than ever.