I see a lot of muggings in this fair city of ours, but until last night I had never fallen victim to one. One should never walk unprepared along a quiet, dark road, especially if two figures in hoods are approaching on the same side of the road. Yet before I had made a firm decision to take evasive action, there they were, two young men of non-white appearance blocking my way threateningly, an undernourished finger jabbed in my solar plexus. I considered asking from which region they originated, but they had no truck with naive questions like that. In retrospect there was something of the Bosphorus about them, but before I could put it to them the leader of the pair began patting down my person quite menacingly. Before I could utter a vague 'What ho, are you interested in anything in particular?' they had commenced what can only be termed as a strip search. In fact, one of them insisted on inserting his grubby hand down my pocket, which in reality held only my mobile phone but as far as I was concerned represented a trouser-based orifice. Yes, there he was grappling around my groin area like a demon possessed. Until now I had not realised how crime was such a homosexual activity. Of course, I fought him tooth and nail, even though my nails are so bitten down to the bone that I doubt either of them felt anything remotely like pain. And I had little chance to use my teeth as I was too preoccupied trying to prevent him divesting my trousers of what worth they contained. I do believe I uttered a feeble 'Help' or two but my cries were useless in such an upper class area. I should perhaps have shouted that someone was uprooting the bougainvillea in the neighbouring garden, as that is what truly motivates that kind of person. As it was I had a hard enough time fighting off their attempts to remove the folded newspaper in my jacket pocket. As the second mugger successfully removed it, only to examine it in disgust and dash it against the pavement, I barely had chance to say 'But I haven't yet read the review of the latest National Theatre production!' before he returned with the threat: 'I've got a knife.' Thinking the best policy was to show interest in his endeavours, I believe I replied: 'Good man, take it out so I can have a close look at it.' He refused this entreaty and was about to rejoin the fray when his compatriot finally wrested my phone from my pocket. They seemed satisfied with this meagre haul and promptly began running away. I chased after them for a few paces, shouting: 'I say, you didn't even take my money, what kind of muggers are you?' It was useless. They were far fleeter than I and disappeared down the road. Suffice it to say I had my own revenge five minutes later when I informed the phone company of my tragedy and removed the thieves' right to use my phone to call up their retarded uncles in Istanbul. Initially I was enraged at my plight and considered stalking the neighbourhood with rather large kitchen knives in both hands, but gradually I attained tranquility and realised that my missing phone had been the bane of my life. Truly it was one of the worst pieces of technology that I have had the misfortune to become intimate with. I trust the muggers will be as annoyed as I was with its ridiculous sliding action and antiquated display. And so I raise a toast, to the muggers! May you fail at life as you failed at robbery!