Whenever I burgle a house,
I make sure to take my cell phone so I can chat with my girlfriend.
Some other tips I picked up:
Some random woman probably murdered your daughter, removed her ring finger, and wrapped her in plastic, in spite of the fact that it's the established MO of a serial killer.
No need for pesky details on how a woman mistook a strange man for her long-time boyfriend, and had him convicted of attempted murder.
I guess it's okay to be an accomplice to home invasion, as long as the house belongs to a footballer who "owes you" $40,000. Definitely don't bother to ask for details.
A radio show that prides itself on being local and live will be recorded the night BEFORE its last night, and no one will notice that the DJ, special guest, and, presumably, tech (since I guess he spent 24 hours skulking around the studio?) are missing.
For some odd reason, you should have a skype buddy who is attractive and local, whom you hide from your boyfriend, whom you obviously have a (mutual) crush on, whom you claim you are going to see to your babysitter, but whom you must NEVER plan to meet in person.
"The Bank" will come and repossess your tiny tube tv. Not your flat or your stove or shut off your heat, but, you know, cry anyways.
That blonde actress has one of the the top five most annoying crying voices ever.
Oh, and sticking light sticks in a crowbar-like formation means watch out, because NOW. IT'S. PERSONAL.
What the hell was going on with the bf ... he was robbing his dad because his sister got the business ... but he just said he was very successful or something? I couldn't understand what he was saying over his gasping.
I only noticed this because I love Neil Marshall - dude, find better proteges.