NOW you’re a big brave boy aren’t you?

Lurking outside some flats and waiting for the most vulnerable person you could find so you could jump him and steal his money.

Obviously you didn’t want to risk some kind of brave retaliation from your victim, perhaps with his walking stick, so you made sure he had a walking frame and that he was more than 90 years old.

You must be so delighted with your payday too. Ninety quid isn’t the usual amount of money a very old gent carries around with him unless he’d just been to pick up his pension or savings from the bank.

Well my friend, there appears to be a fairly good description of you in the paper and I genuinely hope that someone, somewhere recognises you and shops you for the callous, snivelling coward you are.

Because believe me, there are literally hundreds of people out there who would dearly love to ask you a few questions.

And some might even want to let you know what it’s really like to be frail enough to need a walking frame to get around.

• TALKING of famous haircuts (as we are on page 8), for years I had blithely kidded myself that girls would fancy a teenage boy who, from less than 10 yards away, appeared to be wearing a German infantryman’s helmet on his head.

My Mum would take me to our local barber’s – a nervy man dubbed Reckless Reg – for a short back and sides and my style has changed little over the decades.

It may still cost me a small fortune for this look, unlike so many of my peers whose hairdressing requirements go no further than a quick polish with a damp cloth.