Last orders

I watched the movie Ocean's Eleven recently, and while it was infinitely superior to many other films of its ilk, it did make me think.

It made me think that CCTV and other security alarm installations are very rarely given the respect they deserve on the big screen. We quite often see them being dismantled by so-called crime experts, and we often see wires being snipped and rags thrown over cameras to allow these CRIMINALS to get away with their crimes.

But what of the installers, the people who take the time and effort to put these systems into place? The most favourable portrayal I can think of is from the film Revenge of the Nerds, where a strategically sited camera allows an unfettered view of the college girls' changing room. In real life, this sort of practice has been curtailed under privacy laws, but in the movies, it's a harmless bit of titillating fun.

(By the way, if you can think of any positive portrayals of security installers and their work on film or TV, please let me know. It would be lovely to be able to publish a list of all-time top installer movies.)

Wouldn't it be great to see a huge blockbuster action thriller film about a security installation firm? You could have George Clooney as the charming and kind hearted company manager, Johnny Depp as the charismatic and heroic installation engineer, tough nut action man Vin Diesel manning the Alarm Receiving Centre, and Angelina Jolie as the feisty but appreciative housewife end-user. You could call it 'Installation Day', or something like that.

It'd be a guaranteed smash hit, and you can't say fairer than that.

Crime seen

Speaking of security on-screen, one of the most popular shows on telly at the moment is the CSI: Crime scene Investigation franchise, which seems to have dozens of different shows which are basically the same but set in different cities in the US.

And now that popularity has led to the launch of the UK's first publicly available "industry-standard CSI equipment kit".

According to the press release from manufacturer CSI-Inc: "The equipment – available as a full 63-piece kit or as individual component items – is exactly the same as that used by CSIs (Crime Scene Investigators) and SOCOs (Scene of Crime Officers) in many first-world police forces."

Presumably, third-world police officers simply follow the trail of bloody footprints to find the murderer. But that's another story entirely…

So who are these kits meant for? Well, the company's spokesman, Iain Macauley, helpfully explains: "There is a vast range of potential user groups. As well as students at any of the UK's 47 universities providing forensic courses – where there are also huge waiting lists – they are also suitable for private or corporate investigators, and even for amateur sleuths seeking to solve minor domestic or workplace mysteries.

"We would not encourage vigilante-ism, but there are minor mysteries in every workplace or household - and in the same way that somebody might get hooked on chemistry experiments, it is possible to get hooked on forensic investigation."

Excellent. Helping people (and by 'people', I mean amateurs) to get addicted to prying into other peoples' business? Exactly what this country needs more of.

Of course, I'm sure many amateur sleuths will use their CSI kits for good. The only trouble is, I can't think of any really good reason why they'd want to.

Tapped up

One of the great things about being an installer is the wide range of people you get to meet.

You meet rich people, poor people, beautiful people, people who have obviously taken a few knocks on their descent from the ugly tree, generous people, inconsiderate people, fellow van drivers, Volvo drivers – though you often wish you hadn’t – and many others besides.

I met one of these people just the other day. I was taking a brief kip in the van, when there was a tapping on the window. Oh-oh, I thought, with my eyes still shut. It’s one of these characters from an urban-myth type situation, here to lop off my head or take my kidneys and leave me in a bathtub full of ice, or something of that nature.

Still keeping my eyes closed, I thought to myself: ‘Nah, that’s unlikely, isn’t it? I mean, they’re not called ‘urban myths’ for nothing, are they? We all know that myths aren’t real. I never believe Guthead when he swears blind to me that a mate of a mate of his found a rat in his burger.’

But then the tap-tap-tapping started again. I thought, then, for a brief moment, that it might just have been an errant woodpecker, mistaking my van for a tree filled with tasty insects. He wouldn’t have been far wrong, either – it’s been quite a while since I’ve taken a Hoover to this old thing. I did question my judgement, though. Are woodpeckers actually native to Britain? If not, were they an introduced species? I only really knew about them from the amusing cartoon series that used to be on the telly occasionally when I was a child.

Weighing matters up, I thought it was unlikely that a woodpecker would mistake my van for a tree, no matter how much tasty insect life was available inside. Coupled with my doubts over the presence of woodpeckers on this sceptred isle, the balance seemed to tip toward the non-woodpecker situation.

It was then that I began to doubt my sanity. Had I heard anything at all? Was I still dreaming, thinking that I was awake but with my eyes closed and hearing noises? Was the tapping coming from the inside of my head, due to my annoying habit of drumming my fingers on the steering wheel as I drove, leaving me with some kind of tapping-tinnitus?

In the end, it turned out that I’d parked in a disabled spot, and the inspector was just asking me to move along. Nice fellow.