If you don’t want to get busted, don’t have a signature.
I try to be good, but I do like a late night snack. So much so that Milly often comes into the bedroom in the morning and declares in a world weary voice something like; “Oh dear, Daddy’s been eating biscuits again.”. I often reply “Who me?…Why me?…Why not Mummy?” before inevitably conceding.
This morning however there was no place to hide. Inspector Milly had all the evidence she needed to send me down. As I awoke from my slumbers I met the steely gaze of my accuser as she thrust a a perfectly triangularly folded crisp packet under my nose. “Daddy. You’ve been eating crisps!”.
My mind flashed back to three days earlier when I triumphantly held aloft a similarly folded pack and declared my genius.
What could I do?
“You got me”, I mumbled into my pillow, “I throw my mercy upon the court”.
“Oh Daddy” Milly sighed, in the disappointed tone of a parent yet again bailing their wayward son out of jail, and stomped out of the room.
If you’re going to commit a crime, make sure you don’t have James Bond type villain’s signature!