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When I got off the train in Blackpool it was already dark. A torrent of rain pummeled me as I walked from the station down to the sea front. I had no idea why I was here, I had no great love for Blackpool but I suppose I wanted to avoid anywhere they might obviously look for me. When I say ‘they’ I mean the police. I couldn’t be too angry that they were after me. I’d had a good run for the last two years. Stealing from my company may seem a stupid move in hindsight but for two years I’d had a blast. Two foreign holidays a year, the best wide screen TV around and a constant stream of female admirers. Most of them were pretty dumb but they were all lookers. Now it was over. Lucky for me I’d taken a sickie on the day the police came around, I’d also gone out for a paper so I saw the police car outside my house. I ran. I had next to nothing with me, just my jacket and my wallet. I withdrew what was currently in my bank account, which wasn’t much. I had three hundred pounds in there at the time, oh I hadn’t just frittered away all my ill-gotten gains and had over five thousand pounds stashed away, unfortunately it was stashed in my house. I quickly caught a bus into town and, terrified that they would already be tracking me, I used my visa card to buy a suitcase and some new clothes. I almost ran to the train station then used my Visa to purchase a ticket to London. I knew they would probably be able to trace me but that was part of my plan. I got on the train but got off at the first stop. Like a character in a bad spy movie I then spent paper money on another ticket to Birmingham. Once in Birmingham I purchased another ticket, this time to Blackpool. I hoped that would be enough to confuse the police. They probably ...

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