The Joker and the Thief

By Samuel

In the 1970s, famous musician Jimi Hendrix wrote and recorded one of his best-known songs, “All Along the Watchtower.” In the lyrics of this exquisite piece, he sings, “There must be some kind of way out of here, said the Joker to the Thief.” This is a story about two larger-than-life characters. They weren’t so much friends as they were good acquaintances who lived and plied their trade in the city of Halifax, a charming town in Yorkshire, a county often referred to as “God’s Own Country.”

The exact date of our story is unknown, but it occurred around the turn of the 20th century. The Joker, Kelly Krun (or KK to his family and close friends), and the Thief, Harold Foxe (known as “Sticky Fingers” on the streets), were both tall men. KK had a lean build and always wore a half-smile. Sticky Fingers was slightly more muscular due to his love for the gym, where he spent much of his time in the boxing ring. He was a southpaw, capable of throwing a mean left hook.

It was a Sunday morning, and the city streets were bustling with traffic. Most people were individuals and families on their way to Sunday Mass, while others were simply out enjoying the crisp morning air. It promised to be a sunny day with a lovely breeze blowing inland from the North Sea. Sticky Fingers had just pickpocketed a visiting sales representative from London—not once, but twice. The first time, he relieved the unwitting man of his wallet to extract some of the large sum of money he carried. He never stole from women, as in his twisted mindset, he considered that a “black deed against humanity.” The second time, he returned the wallet, minus the funds, to its still-unsuspecting owner. He laughed to himself, feeling a sense of fait accompli—the funds met his need, not his greed.

Not long after this incident, he strode right into Constable Sue Brown as he turned a corner. “Top of the morning to you, Officer,” Sticky said, to which he received the reply, “Up to no good again, Sticky.” Sticky Fingers, in denial, shook his head and continued, knowing the mutual understanding he had with Officer Sue. Sticky’s pockets were now jingling with cash (though paper money doesn’t jingle), and he carried on toward his favourite pub, The Crooked House. It was so named because it was in a building that could easily be mistaken for the Leaning Tower of Pisa. He liked it because it represented his trade.

Stepping into the dimly lit interior, Sticky checked to see if his spot was available, and it was. Sliding into the seat facing the doorway, he waited for Sally, the waitress, to place his order. He was hungry and thirsty, and it didn’t take long for her to appear. “Hi, Sticky, what’ll it be today?” she asked. “Good morning, Sally, same as always: fish and chips and a large tankard of ale.”

It wasn’t long before he saw KK striding through the door. Waving to get his attention, Sticky indicated for KK to join him. KK sat down on the opposite bench and, in a cheerful voice, asked about his health and wealth, smiling as he remarked, “Well, I’ve had a prosperous morning, good pickings, and you?” 

Changing the subject, KK asked Sticky in a serious tone, “Why do you do what you do? Don’t you want an honest day’s work?”

Sticky just looked at him and replied, “My dear old mother, God bless her soul, always told me to work smart, not hard. So I work smart. I outsmart the clever jacks who I believe steal their bosses’ money because the majority of them don’t work as they ought to. I see it as indirect stealing. They do it their way, the hard way; I do it my way, the easy way. You’re a joker, employed as a jester at functions, of which there never seems to be a shortage. Tell me one of your latest joy bringers.”

Just then, Sticky’s order was delivered, and simultaneously, KK placed his order. He was more of a meat person and ordered bangers and mash with a pint of beer. “Also,” he added, “add my order to Sticky’s account—let me steal indirectly from him.” She didn’t get the last part, but Sticky let out a loud laugh, saying, “Touché. Please do entertain me with a funny story.”

As Sticky started eating his meal, KK thought for a bit, then began. “You know those ditties we learned at school? I’ve rephrased some of them. First one: Hickory, Dickory, Dock, two mice ran up the clock. The clock struck one, the other ran down, hickory dickory dock. The second is: Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came down with laughter.”

“Thanks, that was good,” Sticky said. “Your reputation for storytelling is true.”

KK’s meal was served, and he started eating it with gusto. There was some back-and-forth banter, and finally, Sticky paid the bill and, as usual, gave Sally a hefty tip. Leaving together, the two shook hands and parted ways outside. Sticky turned left, going in search of his second mark. KK, satisfied with a good meal, felt it was time to visit his family. 

For these two, there was no way out of here. Life, as they knew it, just continued.