Fire Extinguishers contain carbon dioxide. We all know that carbon dioxide can be very cold when it comes out, and so I took an extinguisher and we legged up to the playground that did have access to a science lab. The fire escape for this lab had a Yale lock, and I'd seen that if you get anything cold enough it becomes brittle. The science teacher had only shown us a few weeks before what happens to rubber when dipped into liquid nitrogen. Taking the newly acquired fire extinguisher, I proceeded to empty the entire bottle over the Yale lock of the door, in the genuine belief that the metal would freeze, crack, and fall off leaving the door open to all to enter. Not surprisingly it didn't, on account that CO2 only freezes at -78°c, whereas liquid nitrogen works best below -150°c. With the failed attempt at freezing the door lock, I chucked the now empty extinguisher in the school pond (yes, we had a pond in our school, and how no one ever died in it I'll never know) and we went back to the lower half of the school to break back in to see what else we can find.
As I clambered through the large cat flap for a second time, Steve started saying "perhaps this isn't such a good idea" and exclaiming that he'd seen a jam sandwich going past. I said we'd be OK, and carried on rummaging through the empty drawers and cupboards looking for something else to provide adventure. Suddenly Steve, still outside, now could be heard walking away from the window and a solitary voice said "I'd get out if I were you. The Police are here."

This yarn was believable for about 3 seconds because Steve burst into tears and admitted everything, the little supergrass. I was arrested there and then for breaking and entering, and burglary. Steve, meanwhile, was also taken into custody, for being a copper's nark. The rozzers collected the now spent fire extinguisher, covered in my fingerprints, and took it in as evidence. Our parents were called, and we were then interviewed in South Norwood Police Station. Steve's parents lied about his age, making him out as 9, whereas in reality he was 10. This meant that he got off scott free, on account of him being below the legal age of criminal responsibility. Meanwhile, they threw the book at me. My mother sat there sniffling. My father sat there glaring at me because I'd had him brought back within contact with my mother only 6 months since he'd left. The copper sat there glaring at me because I'd wasted what could have been a perfectly good afternoon kicking in nonces in the cells. I was bailed (can you imagined if I'd been remanded?) and reappeared some 3 weeks later to be cautioned. Once again, me, my father and my mother went to meet the inspector in the regional station Norbury. I have to admit I don't remember a lot about the 'chat.' Apparently my father had parts of his anatomy puckering from sheer terror from this inspector. All I remember is him talking about the fact the Met has enough gendarme to fill Wembley Stadium. I meanwhile had no interest in football, so this was an empty threat because I had no idea as to how many police this really was. It was drilled into me that if I stayed clean until my 17th birthday I'd get away unblemished, and I nearly made it.
But that's another story.