Nicola Barker - Burley Cross Postbox Theft

I don’t imagine the information involved will be of much significance to his case, overall. I have the distinct feeling that he’s probably a bit of a hypochondriac. That said, if you’re planning a surprise arrest — e.g. smashing down his door in the middle of the night; plucking him, unannounced, from his bed — and he suddenly starts panting and clutching at his chest… Well… consider yourself forewarned!

While ‘Lokele’ is undoubtedly a bit of an old whinger, I must, nevertheless, commend him for his spirited attempt to try and turn things around towards the end of the last paragraph. Christmas is a time of joy. Absolutely.]

My wife finally died…

[The word ‘Lokele’ actually uses is ‘gone’, — i.e. ‘my wife has gone…’ — so she could easily have done a runner with his ‘stash’, I suppose.]

I’ve been pretty broken-up about it, actually, although I won’t pretend — least of all to you — that things were ‘picture perfect’ between us. I’m trying to focus on the positive. Her passing was definitely a ‘blessed relief’ for all parties by the end.

[Good attitude. No use crying over spilt milk, as they say.]

To try and cheer myself up, I headed off to The Gambia for a spot of winter sun…

[There’s a brief phase in the letter here where ‘Lokele’ starts reminiscing, incomprehensibly, about his ‘escape’ from the Congo many years ago on an illegal fishing trawler. He had to work his passage and the captain treated him rather shoddily, it would seem. The boat has since sunk, he says, but he’s not crying any tears over it .

This section is completely out of context and gets in the way of the main thrust of the narrative, so I’ve opted to delete it, although — of course — it’s my professional duty to make a quick, passing reference to it.]

… I ended up in Banjul. It’s a charming place but the beach isn’t all it might be (too close to the big port and all those shipping lines for my tastes).

[I’ve heard this complaint about Banjul before. I’ve also heard — on the BBC’s World Service — that homosexuality has lately been outlawed in The Gambia. From this we can deduce that our suspect isn’t ‘that way inclined’. We are dealing with ‘a man’s man’ in other words.]

I tried to make the best of it, just the same, parading up and down the beach in my natty swimsuit and panama hat (I’m not in bad condition, physically, and like to think I cut quite a dash, even if I say so myself!).

[He’s either unusually well-preserved, ridiculously vain or utterly deluded — and in this respect bears a startling resemblance to every other middle-aged man I’ve ever met!]

The night life was lively, although sometimes everything does feel a tad dated — like you’re trapped inside some sordid television serial from the 1970s; all big-collared shirts and flared trousers!

[Welcome to Africa, ‘Lokele’, welcome to Africa. The suspect is extremely arrogant and judgemental.]

The staff at the hotel were very friendly. They quickly got to know all of my little habits — my regular evening tipple, the kind of fish I prefer at dinner… They referred to me as ‘The Congolese’ among themselves…

[ Oh-ho! A code name, perchance?]

In the end I would’ve quite liked to stay on a while longer, but my flight was pre-booked so it simply wasn’t possible…

[ Pre-booked? Or was there, perhaps, a vicious, square-jawed, gun-toting, Russian thug at the other end of your flight keenly awaiting an illicit ‘delivery’ of some kind, eh, ‘Lokele’?!]

… I’d barely had the opportunity to check out Banjul’s legendary market, which is apparently second to none (full of an amazing array of coloured cloths, leather goods, seafood stalls etc.) …

[ As a matter of interest, there are some fabulous photographic images of Banjul’s famous market on the internet. It does look wonderful. ‘Lokele’ obviously really missed out.]

Shocking as this may sound, I met a girl on holiday. She was a lovely, little thing, quiet, very modest…

[ Muslim]

… who I called The Girl with the Dotted Scarf…

[ Another code name! Has to be! This girl was plainly instrumental in ‘the drop’. Although it’s just conceivably possible that she was actually the girlfriend/wife of the local gangster ‘Lokele’ was dealing with — in which case: Ouch! You’re playing with fire, there, ‘Lokele’. Back off, my friend, if you know what’s good for you!]

I beat myself up a little, emotionally, about moving on so quickly (although nothing physical took place) …

[I should hardly think it would! She’s in purdah, you lunatic! And she’s married to a hooligan from the Gambian Underworld!]

It’s always been my philosophy, Brother, that a man needs to keep a little something back in matters relating to the heart. Don’t throw out the baby with the bath-water, in other words. Stay cool and collected. Show restraint. There’s no point charging in with all guns blazing…

[Not if you’re hoping to get out of The Gambia alive, eh, ‘Lokele’?!]

Play things cool, but always try to be a gentleman. Pay special attention to her needs. Make her feel cherished. Ask if she wants extra ice in her drink, pull out her chair for her — perform all these basic acts of chivalry, but still guard your heart carefully. Don’t give yourself over entirely — or you’re asking to be hurt. Show a measure of restraint, but still try to be gallant…

[I can’t fault ‘Lokele’ on his dating techniques.]

Consistency is often the key, I find. Don’t make the error of giving away too much up front — or of making too many rash promises which you won’t be able to keep. The ‘hearts and roses’ stuff never lasts that long. What you need to build are strong foundations.

Relationships aren’t ever easy, Brother. They take a lot of hard work.

[Yes. And I should certainly know, thirty years on …]

I must confess to having been less than ‘the perfect spouse’, on occasions. It horrifies me when I consider the ‘merry dance’ I’ve led the many women in my life. And to think what a good, Catholic boy I once was (always the first to lead the procession into mass)! Well, that certainly didn’t stop me from ‘putting it about’ a fair bit.

How I cringe when I think of how selfish and arrogant I was back then!

You were quite a ‘ladies’ man’ yourself, as I recall. I suppose some of it might have rubbed off on me over the years. And let’s not forget my highly developed sexual drive — that’s also played its part.

Let’s make no bones about it, Brother: I’ve been a horny devil in my time. But I regret it deeply now, more than you will ever realize…

I suppose what I’m trying to say, in my own, clumsy, roundabout way, is that it’s important to know yourself — what you’re capable of, emotionally — and to conduct yourself accordingly. Don’t make too many rash promises. Don’t give your partner false hopes. Be up front about your fallibilities. Communication is the key, and honesty…

[Thanks, Dr Phil. Can we move on now?]

Just try and be yourself…

[Obviously not… ]

Hopefully she’ll still manage to love you with all your faults…

[‘Lokele’ gets distracted again at this point and starts talking about a bad Tour Guide he had on holiday who led him astray. It’s pretty much just gobbledegook. I can’t even decipher whether he means ‘astray’ in a geographical or a moral sense — although my instinct is to plumb with the latter. I don’t imagine that this is anything that need concern either the moral or the actual police, Detective. Boys will be boys etc.]