let me tell you a funny story.
I had a neighbour (deceased ) who was a private detective.
We were wary of each other to begin with but ended up being friends.
He just decided one day that he wanted to be a private detective and bought some surveillance equipment, rented an office and advertised his services as a private detective. He would get a lot of matrimonial things, suspicious wife wants to know where hubby gets to every Thursday and that sort of thing.
I helped him a couple of times for the Crack.
It is not easy following somebody without being spotted especially if you are in a big Mercedes.
I was followed once over 100 miles myself and I never spotted him until I turned into the rabbit warren of an estate in Buckingham where I was seeing my girlfriend at weekends and I spotted him trying to re-locate me.
This guy ( my friend ) is the sort of guy who lights up a cigarette while giving evidence in the witness box.
Judge; ” you cannot do that here “
I used to go round to his office and he would tell me stories.
One day I was round there and the fax machine is spewing out hundreds of feet of financial information.
I ask ” what is all this ?”
this guy phoned up a building society pretending to be a bank.
“some cunt is asking us for a loan, what do you know about him ? “
and gave my friend’s number.
So anyway my funny story.
This guy who had a business making boats approached my friend “The company has never been busier but when I look there is no money in the bank”
” the fucking accountant has been spending my money on himself”
” he has a big boat, over 80 foot he bought with my money”
So late one evening about 8 serious looking guys and a skipper go and take the boat with the intention of relocating it in France so at least the employer has something.
All the crew go and get their heads down in the various cabins and I wander about looking where I might crash when I notice that the front of the boat is filling up with water.
I go to the skipper.
“Excuse me but the planks on the bow of the boat appear to be separating from the keel and there seems to be a likelihood that the ship might sink and we all drown”.
“ALL HANDS ON DECK!, ALL HANDS ON DECK”
So we decide that crossing the channel is not the brightest idea and head for some harbour on the south coast.
This is a really big boat the size of which has never been in this tiny harbour and frantic skipper manages to get a mooring chain wrapped around the propellor and we are basically fucked.
So we all go our separate ways and accountant gets word and goes and retrieves his unseaworthy boat and it is back to as we were.