I'm shocked - OAP holds up Post Office.

  lisa02 16:50 18 Feb 2008
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What's the world or rather UK coming to?

  Totally-braindead 16:53 18 Feb 2008

Wonder if she had a high speed zimmer ready outside with the engine running for her getaway?

  oresome 16:54 18 Feb 2008

One of the problems with a career as a criminal is the lack of a pension. So you have to keep on 'working' to a ripe old age.

  Forum Editor 17:17 18 Feb 2008

because this person was aged between 65 and 70? Not all criminals are young, as any experienced police officer will tell you.

  lisa02 17:19 18 Feb 2008

It has to be a rare thing though! An OAP armed robber.

  Cymro. 17:26 18 Feb 2008

I wonder if some of today's young thugs will in time grow into O.A.P. thugs, that's assuming that they live that long considering the lifestyle that they lead.

  PalaeoBill 17:26 18 Feb 2008

Makes a change from the OAP's that hold up my Post Office armed with anecdotes.

  wee eddie 17:39 18 Feb 2008

Poem called 'Warning'
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

by Jenny Joseph

  lotvic 18:25 18 Feb 2008

SShhh..... don't tell Penny

  egapup 19:04 18 Feb 2008

Perhaps she was fed up living in poverty.

  Bingalau 19:22 18 Feb 2008

wee eddie. Your poem reminded me of this one... This thread is about old ladies isn't it?

When I'm An Old Lady

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with my son,
and make his life happy and filled with such fun.
I want to pay back all the joy he's provided,
returning each deed. Oh, he'll be so excited.
When I'm an old lady and live with my son.

I'll write on the wall with red, white and blue;
and bounce on the furniture wearing my shoes.
I'll drink from the carton and then leave it out.
I'll stuff all the toilets and oh, will he shout!
When I'm an old lady and live with my son.

When he's on the phone and just out of reach,
I'll get into things like sugar and bleach.
Oh, he'll snap his fingers and then shake his head,
and when he is done I'll hide under the bed.
When I'm an old lady and live with my son.

When my son's wife cooks dinner and calls me to meals,
I'll not eat my green beans or salads congealed.
I'll gag on my okra, spill milk on the table,
and when she gets angry, run fast as I'm able.
When I'm an old lady and live with my son.

I'll sit close to the TV, through the channels
I'll click, I'll cross both my eyes to see if they stick,
l'll take off my socks and throw one away,
and play in the mud until the end of the day.
When I'm an old lady and live with my son.

And later, in bed, I'll lay back and sigh,
and thank God in prayer and then close my eyes;
and my son will look down with a smile slowly creeping,
and say with a groan, "she's so sweet when she's sleeping,"
When I'm an old lady and live with my son.

--Mary Ann Hopkins

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