Diligence leaves me locked in a removal van

It all started yesterday, when I noticed a big removal van drawn up at the house of the people who live a door or two from me, and two men loading furniture on to it. It was one of those really big vans which you look right down inside and can't see the end of. I once saw a George Formby film in which the hero was hiding inside one of those vans, and the baddies, who knew he was hiding in there, let down the back only to see George drive out of the van in a car!

It all started yesterday, when I noticed a big removal van drawn up at the house of the people who live a door or two from me, and two men loading furniture on to it. It was one of those really big vans which you look right down inside and can't see the end of. I once saw a George Formby film in which the hero was hiding inside one of those vans, and the baddies, who knew he was hiding in there, let down the back only to see George drive out of the van in a car!

It was that big.

What was odd, though, was that the people who lived in the house were, to my certain knowledge, away on holiday in Devon. They always went to the same hotel every year, and this was their time of year. There was nobody in the house. Why would they want to move house while they were on holiday? It just didn't make sense. So I went right up to the two furniture-removing gents and asked the older one straight out: "Are the Smiths moving out?"

"That's it, sir," he said. "And they're taking the furniture with them, and all."

I flushed slightly when I realised he was taking the mickey, but I wasn't going to leave it there, because there was a good chance they were burglars, or burglars masquerading as removal men. And there was one way in which I could instantly find out the truth, because for some reason or other I happened to remember the name of the hotel in Devon where the Smiths were staying.

I got the hotel number from Directory Inquiries and a few moments later was speaking to Mrs Smith. I explained my worries. "You were quite right to worry," she said, "but in fact we are moving. We just wanted to have a break while they transferred the furniture."

Well, that was that, it seemed. But the more I thought about it, the more I though the voice didn't really sound like Mrs Smith. Was it possible that the removal men really were burglars and had planted a couple at the hotel to masquerade as Mr and Mrs Smith, and to field any awkward inquiries such as mine? Well, only one way to find out...

I went out again and copied down the phone number on the removal van, which belonged to a firm called Safe And Sound. I went back to the house and dialled the number. There was a nice woman there who said it was quite all right, they were indeed moving the Smiths' furniture for them.

"The Smiths are actually away at the moment," she said. "But they wanted their stuff taken in advance."

At first, I was comforted by this. When I had put the phone down, however, it did occur to me that it was very odd that she should volunteer the detail about the Smiths' being away to a total stranger. However, if she was only trying to convince me that it was not worth interfering, it made more sense. After all, it was quite possible that the number painted on the van was not a genuine one, but simply painted there for suspicious people who might want to copy it down and ring it. As I had done.

Well, there was only one way to find out and that was to go to the van and see if the number had been painted on later than the rest of the insignia. And that's what I did, but unfortunately, just as I was leaning down to have a look, I heard the two removal men coming out of the house, and instead of bluffing it out, which would have been quite easy, I panicked slightly and crept into the van to hide there until they went away.

That was another miscalculation. What I didn't realise was that they had now finished taking what they wanted, and were leaving. Before I could say anything, they had slammed the back, locked it and driven off with me inside.

This was more than embarrassing. This was getting dangerous. I was being driven to an unknown destination by two doubtful men who would be furious to find me there. The only consolation was that I found I had my mobile phone on me! Somehow I had to contact the outside world, and the sooner the better. I could perhaps have dialled 999 and got the police, but some sixth sense told me not to, so I decided to play safe by dialling The Independent and dictating this piece as the next day's copy, just in case I didn't get another chance to do a piece.

A reader writes: "Just a moment! Is there a word of truth in any of this?"

Miles Kington writes: Well, the truth is that...

Sorry, no more space. Continued some other time.