Burrows’ wife and three year old ran out of the house and immediately called the police. The burglar, who had already destroyed a shelf while trying to pry a safe free and had spread a host of possessions around the room in search for valuables, was obviously stunned by the visitation. He left most of the valuables scattered about the room, jumped out of the upstairs window onto a neighbour’s roof and down into a backyard garden.
By the time he got to the main road, the police were waiting for him.
The Burrows family later noticed that the thief had indeed taken something with him: three krugerrands — gold coins of South African provenance — worth about £780 a piece.
But the krugerrands were nowhere to be found on the thief’s person.
Later, at Belmarsh prison in London, police introduced the thief to a contraption lovingly known as “The Boss”, or Body Orifice Security Scanner. Essentially a bucket with a metal detector at the bottom, with an aesthetic austerity reminiscent of Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, the Boss is designed to stifle incoming inmates’ attempt to smuggle contraband of various kinds into prison.
Thus the thief, having probably expressed to police an urgent need to respond quickly to digestive peristalsis, was introduced to the Boss, and Borrows reintroduced to his treasure.
Said Olly Burrows: “Today the evidence against [the thief] took a more solid twist, as the coins re-emerged from his rectum. Alimentary, my dear Watson!”
Burrows told Blog that the news that the coins had re-emerged made his day, but mused that for the burglar, it had probably made his whole week.
In a follow-up interview, it emerged that the thief had attempted to quickly parse through his own excrement, find the coins, give them a cursory cleaning and reintroduce them into his digestive system, before being deterred by police once more. Cacophagy is frowned upon in correctional facilities, as well, apparently.
The krugerrands are currently in evidence. Hopefully sealed in a series of plastic bags. The thief awaits trial.
