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Somewhere There is a Crime Happening

 


The first time I saw Robocop was on VHS rental from my local video store. It was in the school summer holiday of 1988. I was ten years old.

When my friend and I tried to rent it, the video shop lady (that's what we called her) unsurprisingly said we were too young and refused to give us the tape. But we were persistent kids who wouldn't take no for an answer, so we needled her, trying to break her down until she said yes.


She eventually relented and made us a proposition: If we returned with a letter from our parents saying we could watch the film, she'd let us rent it.


We explained that our parents were all at work and my Grandma was looking after us (which was true). So she said we'd need written permission from my Grandma.


We said ok and left the store.


She probably thought we were just trying it on and that she'd managed to get rid of us. But we went straight to my house and asked my Grandma—who was standing in the kitchen organising the contents of one of the overhead cupboards—to write the letter. We told her the film wasn't violent; it just contained a few mild swear words and was fine for kids to watch—despite its 18 rating.


Distracted, she said alright, but she couldn't write the message due to her arthritis, so she suggested we write it and she sign it. So that's what we did. She passed me a blue ballpoint pen and an A5 Basildon Bond writing pad from the cupboard, and I began to write. I don't remember what I said in that letter, but it was short and functional. I addressed it to "Video shop lady," and my Grandma signed it.


We dashed back to the store and presented the folded piece of paper to the video shop lady. I was convinced she'd send us on our way, saying a note we'd written ourselves wasn't worth a damn. But she read it and, after a short pause, shrugged and gave us the tape.


Elated, we went home clutching our prize. I knew someone had broken a rule somewhere, but I wasn't sure if it was us, my Grandma, or the video shop lady. Maybe we all had. 


And, as we—two ten-year-old boys—sat on the family sofa watching Robocop and eating crisps while my Grandma stayed in the kitchen, I realised that, as well as the video, we'd got something far more exciting and enjoyable—the illicit thrill of doing something we knew we shouldn't.


—2023—

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