Renowned British cat burglar Peter Scott warned the Telegraph in 1994 that he would consider it “a massive disappointment” if his passing were to be overlooked by its obituary writing staff. The Telegraph did not disappoint him.
Scott stole jewels, furs and artworks worth more than Â£30 million. He held none of his victims in great esteem (â€œupper-class prats chattering in monosyllablesâ€). The roll-call of â€œmarksâ€ from whom he claimed to have stolen valuables included Zsa Zsa Gabor, Lauren Bacall, Elizabeth Taylor, Vivien Leigh, Sophia Loren, Maria Callas and the gambling club and zoo owner John Aspinall. â€œRobbing that bastard Aspinall was one of my favourites,â€ he recollected. â€œSophia Loren got what she deserved too.â€
Scott stole a Â£200,000 necklace from the Italian star when she was in Britain filming The Millionairess in 1960. Billed in the newspapers as Britainâ€™s biggest jewellery theft, it yielded Scott Â£30,000 from a â€œfenceâ€. After Miss Loren had pointed at him on television saying: â€œI come from a long line of gipsies. You will have no luck,â€ Scott lost every penny in the Palm Beach Casino at Cannes.
In the 1950s and 1960s he pinpointed his targets by perusing the society columns in the Daily Mail and Daily Express. Nor did he ease up with the approach of middle-age; in the 1980s he was still scaling walls and drainpipes. In one Bond Street caper alone he stole jewellery worth Â£1.5 million, and in 1985 he was jailed for four years. On his release he expanded his social horizons by becoming a celebrity â€œtennis bumâ€, a racquet for hire at a smart London club where â€” as he put it in his autobiography â€” he coached still more potential â€œrich pratsâ€.
By the mid-1990s, Scott had served 12 years in prison in the course of half a dozen separate stretches, and claimed to have laid down his â€œcaneâ€ [jemmy] and retired from a life of crime.
But in 1998 he was jailed for another three and a half years for handling, following the theft of Picassoâ€™s TÃªte de Femme from the Lefevre Gallery in Mayfair the year before. To the impassive detectives who arrested him, Scott quoted a line from WE Henley: â€œUnder the bludgeonings of chance, my head is bloody but unbowed.â€ He often drew on literary allusions, quoting Confucius, Oscar Wilde and Proust.
Scott was also a past-master in self-justification of his crimes and misdemeanours: â€œThe people I burgled got rich by greed and skulduggery. They indulged in the mechanics of ostentation â€” they deserved me and I deserved them. If I rob Ivana Trump, it is just a meeting of two different kinds of degeneracy on a dark rooftop.â€
In his memoirs, Gentleman Thief (1995), Scott admitted to an even stronger motivation than fear as he contemplated another â€œjobâ€: â€œEven now, after 30 years, it was a sexual thrill.â€ There was the additional satisfaction in his assumption that the millions reading about his exploits in the papers were silently cheering him on.
Read the whole thing.
Hat tip to John Brewer.