Time to ring 999 and report a case of stolen identity | OneFootball

Hello? Is that Northumbria Police? I want to report a case of stolen identity!

What do you mean, am I sure? Too right I’m sure, 100 per cent convinced.

The worst aspect of this case is that the chief suspect is my nearest neighbour. No, we’re certainly not close, except in the geographical sense.

When did it start? Well, that’s a bit tricky, because love is blind and for a while I didn’t realise there was anything amiss.

We were so happy only eight months ago, celebrating our eternal union after a wonderful weekend in London. My friends and I never thought such a good thing could turn bad with almost no warning.

Yes, as in any highly emotional relationship there were one or two little hiccups, the occasional unexpected setback.

I thought, however, that these were unimportant, the sort of blip that’s inevitable along the way. Life’s a journey, after all…

We had a falling out when somebody decided he no longer wanted to be a member of our set. He reckoned the grass was greener on the other side of the Pennines. That’s probably because it rains a helluva lot in the North West. In his case, it not only rained, it absolutely precipitated down. If only he had spent a little time studying the British climate rather than learning five languages . . . Actually, he can speak six fluently. if you count double talk.

No, he’s not the chief suspect, just a deeply annoying hindrance who should have been careful what he wished for, as the pundits like to say.

Have I seem him since his desertion? Oh yes, I’ve seen him all right. He’s doing nothing much, actually. Often just sitting around, a bit like a king, in his counting house, counting all his money.

He seems a bit young to shun an active lifestyle, if you ask me. After all, he’s only 26.

Still, that’s not why I rang, is it? Apologies for going off at a tangent, though I do believe his behaviour is open to question. Perhaps you should open a file on that one, if you have the time. It’s a low priority, mind.

Stolen identity, that’s the big concern. Until recently, my one true love was full of energy, had a great sense of adventure, started delighting me with trips to the Continent. A passport that had been gathering dust for years suddenly had to be renewed and put to good service.

Now I’m starting to wonder if these foreign jaunts have done more harm than good. Have we taken our eye off the ball?

We liked to say “intensity is our identity” as we confronted every challenge head-on. Jealous rivals accused us of dirty tricks, of having ideas above our station, of gatecrashing their cosy parties.

We laughed in their faces when they failed to match our energy. The bigger they were, the harder they fell.

Were they bitter? Oh yes, not ‘alf. They moaned non-stop whenever we came out on top. They blamed everyone but themselves, rather than looking in the mirror to find the reason.

Not so long ago we would look forward to away days, confident they would have a joyful climax. Who could resist our charms?

The boot is on the other foot now. I’m dreading what will happen, almost on our own doorstep, when we make the short journey down the A19 next month to see that neighbour I mentioned. Yes, the chief suspect.

The one that has stolen our identity. They will try to throw you off the scent, of course. They talk oddly, they dress oddly and, to be frank, they just look a bit odd. Don’t be fooled, these jokers are deadly serious.

It’s their behaviour you have to watch. The evidence is as clear as day. More power than Sizewell B. More guts on display than an eviscerated elephant. More speed than Silverstone. They refuse to accept anyone is superior. They stand up to sly thuggery from rivals. Indeed, they counteract sly thuggery by inflicting a bit of blatant thuggery if it is needed.

I saw it for myself on Saturday night. Some wideboys from London tried to intimidate them. We’ve witnessed those pretenders at our place often enough. You just have to match fire with fire, hit them back if they hit you. Hit them a bit harder when necessary. They’re typical bullies, far too used to getting their own way.

Of course, they have friends in high places and often cheat their way to success. They have a long, inglorious history of that. You’ll find bribery on their record. It’s the way of the world, sadly.

Give them an inch and they take a mile. Our neighbours stood firm, however, hardly taking a backward step.

They gave a masterful impression of the way, until recently, we behaved.

Less than 24 hours later, we looked a pale shadow of our former selves. Where was the energy, the ambition, the will to win?

Somehow, those qualities have been removed from our identity and become deeply imbedded in the psyche of our neighbours.

You’ve got to give this case the highest priority, officer. It’s been going on far too long already.

On December 14 I want to see a positive outcome, a fitting conclusion to your investigation. Expose the impostors. Show me, show the world, we’re right to believe our intensity is still our identity.

That would be the best early Christmas present ever. If you pull it off, I’ll buy a shedload of tickets for the Policeman’s Ball.