Sam slept well in the police cells the night before his court appearance, accused of stealing from Tescos. For some, attendance at a Magistrates' Court would be an event filled with fear and foreboding. Not so for Sam, aged 55. This was about his 20th court appearance and, as far as he was concerned, this was just another boring detail.

He had not, however, previously come before Justice of the Peace, Montague Fitzherbert, known behind his back as "Thunder-guts". Sam duly pleaded guilty and heard his string of previous offences and the resulting prison sentences drearily intoned by the Police. "Thunder-guts" was in a benevolent mood this morning despite his twitching ginger "military" moustache and severe countenance. "Smith, why did you steal two packets of Ginger Biscuits from Tescos? What made you do it?" Sam, with his greying hair, rather haggard face and ugly snub nose, looked up with an almost smile overcoming his usual sullen face. "Well Gov, I was tired of Digestive Biscuits, thought a change would be good and the Ginger Biscuits was 'two for the price of one'." The whole court erupted into laughter, all except "Thunder-guts" who now lost all semblance of being benign.

"SILENCE!" He thundered in fury at, so he thought, being laughed at. There was indeed silence in court for what seemed an eternity. Then, having more or less regained composure, he raved and ranted at the huge cost to taxpayers of sending scoundrels like this one to prison. "Do you know how much it costs to keep thieves like you in prison?" He roared. It was a rhetorical question but Sam did not know about such things and honestly replied. "Don't know Gov. I never could do 'rithmatic." The laughter this time was more subdued and muffled into handkerchiefs. "Thunderguts" was determined to do his duty in his new crusade to protect taxpayers. "I'm not going to send you to prison. I'm giving you two years Probation instead." The Clerk to the court whispered, "You must ask him if he consents to Probation. It's the law." "Smith, do you agree to be put on Probation?" growled "Thunder-guts". "O.K. Gov. On condition that I can have that Probation Officer", pointing to an embarrassed looking John Knowles, who had interviewed him in the cells before Court. The apoplectic fit that came over "Thunder-guts" nearly put him into an early grave. He thundered, "You don't make conditions, I do!" Turning to John Knowles he said, "Take this scoundrel away, clean him up and put him in the Salvation Army Hostel."

Court Adjourned!

John Knowles duly ushered the rather ripesmelling Sam from the Court. Sam was muttering, "The mean bastard. He won't even pay the cost of my prison bed!" John was a newly trained young Probation Officer still finding his feet. Sam glared at him and said, "You ain't going to tell me what to do, nor where I'm to go. Understand?" John thought hard. "I'm going to Joe's Cafe for a cup of tea. Like one too?" Sam growled back, "I don't mind thieving but I don't take charity. I've got some respect, ye'r know." "Well, it's warm there. You don't need to have anything if you are with me". "OK Gov." At the cafe, where Sam's smell would mingle with those of others, John pointed out that the cost of his tea was covered by "expenses claim" and so would Sam's if he wanted one. Sam consented and they both had two mugs and a large portion of chips.

Sam made it clear that he would never go back to that Sally Army dump and that he was going to carry on sleeping rough and no one could stop him. He had his rights. John was beginning to warm towards his new "client", as they were called in those days. "Where are you dossing down at present?" asked John. "That abandoned shed in the corner of the Recreation Ground" replied Sam. You had to have an address to be on Probation and John grinned as he said to Sam, "Your official address is now '13A, Recreation Close'. Please tell me if you move to another spot. By the way why did you ask to have me as your Probation Officer?" Sam softened a little as he replied, "I could see that you were green, not like those hardened nuts, and you called me Mister Smith when down there in the cells."

John knew that he must bring this "interview" to a close. He would have plenty of work to do back at the office facing the hurdles of both the admin. staff and the pernickety Senior Probation Officer, Hugh Morgan. Turning to Sam he told him that he would be calling at the cafe for a tea at the same time tomorrow and, perhaps, Sam would like to come too? John had seen and smelled enough for one day!

By James Dowd