When I glanced through the bedroom window I saw a tall dark man cooking sausages on our barbecue in our garden.
‘Go get him!’ I ordered TPR.
‘No problem’, he replied, waving his axe in the air.
While TPR charged out the back door, I ran into the kitchen to grab the camera so that I could photograph the garden trespasser. However, before I even had a chance to take the camera out of its case, TPR returned from his quest, groaning.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘He got me before I got him’ he replied, then doubled up in pain from a massive blow to his abdomen.
I ran to the phone to call the police, but the line was dead. We were forced to accept that TPR’s attacker would escape unpunished.