Italo Ninja

Today I watched a documentary on pick-pocketing. Yes, the theft kind. I didn’t watch it to learn, I didn’t have any educational intention when I clicked on the suggested clip after watching a recorded live performance by the Beatles. And I enjoyed it a lot. It struck an interesting string of thoughts in my head. Imagination is a funny thing.

It was about this guy who’s apparently famous in Las Vegas. His job is to entertain and rob people on stage. He shakes their hands and takes their watches, he asks them questions and shows them their wallets before they answer. Now, in the documentary he goes to Napoli to catch the guy who had taken cash out of his front pocket a lot time ago.

I found it interesting, because he lets himself being pickpocketed. Then he catches the thief, reveals his identity, and then together they go get coffee. So, at the end he finally finds the guy and becomes his half-criminal friend. And I was also intrigued by the silent techniques, the tricks and schemes. But there was another string of thought, too. 

Another reason I kept watching it was that it made me sympathize with the thieves. In mini interviews the guys first tell you about their routine, and the next moment they tell you very earnestly that they hate what they do. They don’t do it in Vegas like the American hero, but in the streets of reality. They do it to real people, who really hate them.