I’ve always been a bit of a crime and justice report junkie, even without a TV. By the way, the TV was not stolen and I’m not Amish. There’s just no TV set here, OK? Some people don’t have telephones either.

Most crimes that the local news covers are robberies, break-ins, assaults and such. National crime stories involve terror plots, kidnappings or serial killers. While more gripping, relishing such stories is on the creepy side. International stories, though, are a treasure trove of entertainment. The fact that the crime didn’t occur on my continent provides an appropriate backdrop for laughter. Lots of it.

Today I turn to Brussels, where a bank robber serving a four year sentence on armed robbery set a new precedent. Certainly, armed robberies happen in the United States. But this armed robber wrote off the cost of the gun used in the crime for tax purposes and the court system ( presumably the same one that sentenced him ) upheld the deduction.

You know, I just can’t make this stuff up.

Perhaps a weekly entry that feature bizarre international crime and justice stories might be of interest? Please sound off in the comments.

Some people may have seen this picture already, but it’s worth repeating.

Once again Britain shocks us colonies by allowing sales of beer at pubs and restaurants 24 hours a day. This breakthrough legislation goes into effect in less than a year. All I can say is, to hell with Atkins. Imagine a nice Newcastle and cheese omelet, sausage braised in Guinness, all washed down with a pint of Bass.

I exaggerate a bit. There’s already place in the United States where the party never stops: the French Quarter in New Orleans, Louisiana. I recommend it to everyone over the age of eighteen with at least one functional kidney. Of course, that’s just one town, not an entire country

Eliminating last call spares the public the unsightly mess of the pub occupants spilling onto the streets at once, rowdy, drunk and in dire need of public restroom. Now drinkers can remain in place, in theory forever, instead of dashing out at 11 PM. Clearly, this reduces the effects of alcohol consumption to the community as alcholics can ignore their families from the comfort of a barstool. Well, that’s my take on the thought behind the law at least. I’m not a barrister, nor do I watch one on TV.

My question is – during the public debates over this legislation – was the possibility of moving last call ahead a few hours considered? Perhaps the 10:50PM cut off time was draconian, an outdated throwback, but somewhere between that point and never was an acceptable compromise. Or was the open tap the only proposal the public backed?

Anyway, a toast to Britain. The sun may have set on your empire, but the beer never shall.

I wasn’t looking for a moral conflict about a wild animal last Saturday, but life had other plans. Ah, the cruel cycle of irony. A rustling sound, like metal strips against concrete alerted me of the problem. The investigation, while hasty, was thorough and revealed a squirrel shaped like a watermelon trapped in a cage.

A cage like thus:

Generally speaking, animals are cool with me, although if nature Darwins out praying mantises, I’ll host the extinction party. But back to the dilemma: what to do about Sebastian the watermelon squirrel. One of the most effective problem solving techniques is the passive approach. Give the problem space and it might self resolve. An effort free technique, it requires no stress and is a favorite of most American managers. Fourteen hours later Sebastian still railed against the prison walls like a man in need of a conjugal visit.

The passive approach had failed, so I pondered the vigilante method: throw the trap in the trunk, drive to my ex-bosses house and introduce Sebastian to his wife. Since neither Sebastian and I had shaved recently, this option was nixed. Besides, unleashing a squirrel on another neighborhood is rather like dumping a kid from Bel Air on downtown Newark. The fish out of water is at a disadvantage.

Freeing Sebastian on the front lawn was a possibility. However, that meant replacing the peanut butter bait before the landlord uncovered the deception. And I had already fed all the peanut butter to Sebastian. Then the solution hit me. I’m a renter! With no haste or regard for the late hour, I left a brief message for the landlord.

Sam: Hi, just calling you at one in the morning. There’s a squirrel caught in the trap, and it’s cold so I moved him in the basement and gave him lots of food and water. Don’t worry the trap is closed.

Ah, problem solved. The trap disappeared the next morning. In the face of chaos, decisive action delivers results.