I was having a field day down the Westend; my deep pockets were jingling and full of money nearly every day of the week. My brother’s bird, Irene, wanted a fur coat, so I got her one by throwing a brick through the shop window and grabbing the coat off the shop dummy. Once I got to the bed-sit, I put the jacket on and waltzed in to the flat looking like Liberace, the two of them burst out laughing. Irene was like a tramp eating chips.	‘Let’s try it on, Jimmy, please?’	As she swooned around like Joan Collins with the fur coat on, she had the air of a council estate beauty queen about her.
Stephen Richards, Lost in Care: The True Story of a Forgotten Child
crime, jimmy-holland, true-crime