A note concerning art thieves

“Sam, explain something to me: You are the greatest art thief the world has ever known…”

“Says you.”

“You have had in your possession items worth millions of dollars…”

“Says you.”

“And yet you live in squalor…”

“Says you.”

“Why is this? Do you pay attention to the media? All the big art thieves are rich and handsome and have titles and gobs of money. You have a tiny one and a half room flat with ‘furniture’ actually made from take-out boxes.”

“I’m a barber’s son. Doesn’t usually come with a title and my mum still lives in the house.”

“Besides the point. You’re an art thief, you’re poor, and I’m the only one who knows either of those things.”

“You know I don’t do it for the money. Never have, the only reason I steal ‘em is because putting ‘em back is fun.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that…”

“Gill, this is a hobby, if I did it as a job, it wouldn’t be fun anymore. ‘Sides, I’ve already got a job.”

“You work at the Chicken Deluxe. You clean grease traps and frialators.”

“A hard day’s work. How can you even expect me to make money as a thief? Do you know anyone who’d buy the Mona Lisa? It’s sitting over there right now and it’s got a sheet over it ‘cause it creeps me out. She looks slightly concussed, even if someone was willing to pay for it, who’d actually want something like that?”

“Are you serious? The Mona Lisa is over there, in the corner, with a sheet and a pair of likely dirty knickers draped over?”

“I’m always serious Gill.”

“There’s something wrong with this picture, Sam.”

“That’s what I was just saying. Glad you agree.”

“You amaze me, Sam.”

“I’m an amazing guy. Hey Gill?”

“Yeah Sam?”

“Can I have thirty quid?”