Monday the 8th of September, 1980.

Nine days into a 198 crime spree, Mickey and Jimmy were on the run.

Across four robberies, they'd stolen a total of £1,500, £8,200 today,

only to squander it all on booze, birds and boogie-ink, as if these lame losers were criminal kingpins.

Being capped, These lame losers were criminal kingpins.

Being cowardly half-wits, who were incapable of committing a single crime unless they

were half cut, with no plan, no preparation, no disguise, and being drunk, two seemingly simple thefts had ended in a brutal double murder and an attempted murder.

Oh, into Mickey being a sadistic psychopath.

They were as lazy as they were stupid.

As so far, every crime that committed and every victim that attacked

was a neighbour in the community that grown up in. Until the last victim, Sebi, the sub-postmaster,

had made it clear that he knew Mickey's name. Leaving his fingerprints on a card,

a bullet at the scene of the crime,

and his name on the victim's tongue.

Having survived, the police now had Mickey's details.

Fearing his arrest, their pal John Hamilton had fled.

Jimmy, as always, would minimize his involvement in either the murder or the attempted murder.

And alongside Mickey, who wasn't the brightest, they didn't flee the country.

In fact, they barely left the county, having spent seven and a half miles east to Romford in Essex.

Split three ways, the five hundred and sixty pounds that swiped from Sibby's till was spent within four days.

On Friday the 12th September, 1980, being typically cowardly.

That evening, after a few pints, they burgled an unoccupied carpet shop on South Street, stealing just

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