I have previously commented a little on the larcenous tendencies of college students. But since she brought it up (I should have know you had a dodgy past, Shauny!), I thought I might explore the theme more fully.

Oh boy. Where to start?

Firstly, you have to understand something about my college, and I don't think this is limited to us. Our motto is: "Why not?" So, if someone was, for instance, to say: "Hey, let's steal a V-dub beetle and put it in the VC's parking place with a goat tethered to the steering wheel", the general response would be in the affirmative. The only problem would be finding a goat. And the solution to that, of course, would be to steal one.

Nothing is safe in Canberra. Especially around Scavenger Hunt time, when the real estate signs disappear like magic. Only things that are firmly cemented to bedrock survive. More about that later. This is about totally random acts of kleptomania. And a few carefully premeditated ones.

The first story I'd like to tell is my own induction into the world of sticky-fingeredness.
The target: a large cardboard cutout devil. I believe he was snapping his fingers, and probably holding a pitchfork. He was definitely advertising firelighters in Supabarn. He was cool.
The plan: beautiful in its simplicity. Grab a trolley. Place devil in bottom. Dump coats on top. Go through checkout, wheel trolly away to freedom!
The result: went off without a hitch, despite blatantly suspicious behaviour in the form of nervous whisperings and gigglings from the perpetrators. We got weird looks, but that was it. The devil is still on J¹'s door. (He scored it because he pushed the trolley.)

Second story was one by report only. But it's so good, it just has to get a mention here. This story was told by the more-Aussie-than-thou Pete over summer.
The target: It was a Buck's Night, right? A pub-crawl. And the best man gathers them together before they go into one place and says: "I want all of you to pinch something for a present for the bride and groom. The person who gets the best one gets a free beer at the next place."
The result: Well, Pete thought he did pretty well making off with the license act from behind the bouncer's head. Then he got back to the bus and found some of his mates waiting with a table. A large, round, wooden, solid table. Here's how it had gone. One of them had distracted the bouncer while the rest took the table out the back into the beer garden (empty at that time). They heaved it over the wall into the alley, ran around and picked it up. Smooth.

So many stories, so little time. Another one, this one centred around the delightful thing that is the Scav Hunt. Various items are procured - sexually suggestive road signs ('Slippery when wet' is a personal favourite) and park benches among them - but the year we stepped up to bat (our first year) one had never been accomplished.
The target: a concrete bollard. Scattered throughout the campus of the ANU like ossified giants' marbles, these round concrete balls mark off pedestrian zones and such. They're solid. They're cemented down. But J² was sure he could manage it.
The plan: Midnight. A crowbar. Three burly guys. Some heaving. Getaway via rolling it back to college. Hard part would be finding somewhere to keep it where another team wouldn't pinch it.
The result: Ultimately unsuccessful. The boys went off on their mission with high spirits and a big metal stick. Not even a drive-by by ANU security could stop them long (though I really wish I'd been there to witness three guys trying to look nonchalant with a crowbar). But the bloody thing just wouldn't move, no matter how much they swore at it. Finally they gave up and went to Maccas instead.

Incidentally, as I look out my window I can see, in the back carpark of the college next door, one shopping trolley, one witch's hat and one 'Work in progress' road sign. Looks like last night was a good haul.

This has been quite long enough already, I think, so I'll stop about here. I won't go into C^b's weekend cruise of Canberra, looking for a 'Danger: weapons discharging' sign. Or the small collection of golf flags in his room, one of which was borrowed for the 3B limbo pole this year. Or the huge Coca-Cola sign that adorned R^y's room for most of last year.

And our planned paper-bagging of the red-light cameras on Northborne is another story altogether.