Bangkok police experienced something of a surprise when they raided the home of a suspect in a 10-million-baht jewellery heist last week. For a start, the suspect's wife was allegedly wearing some of the more attractive stolen bangles _ not perhaps the smartest idea after a major robbery. Even Inspector Clouseau might have suspected something was up.
But things got more interesting when they started looking around the house in Klong Sam Wa district and uncovered an estimated 5,000 pairs of ladies' panties _ and they didn't belong to the wife. There were all sorts of colours _ pink ones, purple ones, blue ones, polka-dot ones. They were all tastefully lined up in the closet with the same colours next to one another, interrupted only by the occasional stray bra.
The fellow had enough panties, knickers, drawers or bloomers to open half a dozen lingerie stalls at the local mall. He explained to police that he collected these items on his robbery outings as "a hobby". He used to count them but gave up after the number reached 2,000.
He also told police he acquired his safe-breaking skills while in jail.
It's encouraging to learn prisoners put their time inside to practical use.
The collector
Thieves with a penchant for pinching panties are not a new phenomenon, of course. However, in the past, the culprits usually preferred nicking the knickers from outdoor clotheslines rather than rifling cupboards during household raids.
This was the case two years ago when police nabbed the "Panty Snatcher of Samut Prakan". Police swooped on the fellow in a garden in the early hours of the morning, catching him red-handed stuffing his pockets with panties. He too claimed he was simply a "collector". Perhaps these gentlemen should get together and form a Gentlemen's Knickers Appreciation Society.
None of these characters, however, could match the legendary "Panty Snatcher of Nonthaburi", who terrorised clotheslines back in the 1980s. No knickers were safe while this man was on the loose. Even the police speak of this fellow in reverential tones.
Brief encounter
Another gentleman who gained considerable notoriety in Bangkok was dubbed the "Underwear Burglar". However, this was not because he stole underwear, but that he committed his crimes while clad only in underwear. This was all very well in the hot season, but got a bit chilly later in the year. When the cops eventually caught him clad only in his underpants, it was in December, and by all accounts the poor fellow was shivering and said to be suffering from "exposure".
Twisted tale
We do have panties to thank for one of the most celebrated expressions in the English language, "Don't get your knickers in a twist". The term is believed to have originated on the BBC television children's programme, Crackerjack, which began in the mid-1950s. In a segment of the show each week, two actors would perform a sketch in which one would get a bit agitated over a trivial matter and the other would calm him down with "Don't get your knickers in a twist". The expression caught on among the kids, was quickly picked up by the general public and graces the English language to this day.
Crackerjack used to start just as I was arriving home from school. I had just reached the stage where I felt I was too old for children's TV, although admittedly it didn't stop me watching The Lone Ranger. I do recall the Crackerjack host in those days was Eamonn Andrews, an amiable Irishman who also hosted What's My Line? and This Is Your Life.
Permission to speak
While on the subject of bygone TV personalities, I was sorry to learn of the recent passing of actor Clive Dunn, at the age of 92. He starred in Dad's Army, the popular BBC sitcom about the British Home Guard in World War II.
Dunn played an elderly butcher, Lance-Corporal Jack Jones, and became associated with several catch-phrases including "Permission to speak, sir!" and shouting "Don't panic!" when he was clearly in a state of considerable panic himself. He also prompted regular guffaws with "They don't like it up 'em."
Dunn actually fought in World War II, serving with the 4th Hussars and was captured by the Germans in Yugoslavia, spending four years as a PoW in Austria.
I only saw a few episodes, but my dad loved it, especially the theme tune Who Do You Think You Are Kidding Mr Hitler? Dunn even enjoyed his own No1 in the British hit parade with Grandad and released an LP entitled Permission To Sing, Sir!
In an extensive 2004 poll, Dad's Army was voted fourth best British sitcom.
Fools and horses
British readers might be curious to know which shows ranked above Dad's Army. In third place came The Vicar of Dibley, which I admit to having never seen. Runner-up was Rowan Atkinson's Blackadder, while at No1 was Only Fools and Horses.
The positions of other well-known series were Fawlty Towers (5), Yes, Minister/Yes, Prime Minister (6) and Porridge (7). Fellow wrinklies might be interested to learn that of the really ancient comedies, Steptoe and Son came 15th, Hancock's Half Hour was 30th, while my particular favourite, Till Death Us Do Part, could only manage 32nd place.
Contact PostScript via email at oldcrutch@hotmail.com.