Writers Confess to the Crimes They Commit on a Daily Basis

What is a micro-crime? To define a micro-crime we must start with a macro-crime, or "crime". I think we can all agree, for example, that doing a bad murder is a crime. If you shoot someone in the head, you have done a crime. But what if… what if you then walk into Tesco, blood smeared across your face and chest, and buy a Meal Deal, and check it out at the machines, and then steal a bag without paying 5p for it? Is that a crime?

Technically: yes. You have committed a theft and sidestepped your way out of a five pence charge that, by law, you have to pay. But you're not ever going to prison for it, are you? You have run against the word of the law, like stroking a cat's fur backwards, but you are walking around free and innocent as if nothing has happened at all. Can you live with yourself? Yes. But can you live with yourself? Also yes. Will you be judged at the gates of heaven or hell when you die for it? No. So it's hard to say an actual crime has been committed.

And so we enter the moral grey area known as the "micro-crime", a crime for which we are all, in some way or another, guilty, as a YouGov poll revealed today. Look, here are things people do that are totally technically illegal, but also, really, not that bad:

Anyway, seeing as everyone has committed one of the above at some point or another, we asked some of our writers – anonymously, in case the old fucking bill came down on us with an almighty crash – to detail their exploits as extremely, extremely, extremely minor criminals. Some have been forced into micro-crime. Some have had micro-crime thrust upon them. Some just do it for the thrill of it. All of them belong in prison.

To me, the beautiful thing about the internet when you've got limited funds is that you can save money on shit films to support the people you want to support. So when I want to watch something which is essentially background noise, and it's not on Netflix, I torrent it. Horrible, I know. But that means that when it comes to my friend's music or independent filmmaking I can actually afford to give them my money, which will make a big difference and helps them continue to make art. I also torrent films when I want to make informed comments on something but not financially support the director or company, because they have done awful things or mistreated employees, etc.

On the other hand, if there's a company or director I love, or a band releasing an album or touring, I will go out of my way to support them however I can. So I guess that's putting my money where my mouth is. In terms of music I don't think I've torrented anything in years – but when I was 15 I think it was either the only way of accessing the music I liked in Brazil, or an advanced version of me spending hours at the record store repeatedly asking the people working there to open CDs so I could check them out because I could only afford one.

I think I commit at least two micro-crimes every day: illegally streaming TV programmes and taking a plastic bag without paying for it. But both of these are justifiable.

First: all TV and movies should be instantly available online. The only reason I don't pay to watch the newest episode of Westworld is because nowhere in the UK gives me that option (except for Now TV, yes, but that's a week behind the US version and that's unacceptable). IT'S 2016. CATCH UP, HOLLYWOOD.

Second: the 5p bag thing was brought in to save the world, but seeing as nobody has ever remembered to bring their own bag, it's now essentially just an extra money-maker for supermarkets and contributes nothing towards world saving efforts. There is no way supermarkets pay more than 0.05 pence for each of those bags, so paying literally 100 times that is clearly unjust.

Also, I smoke a lot of weed, which definitely counts as a micro-crime these days, because most police – except, bizarrely, for those in Camden – have completely given up on treating it like a proper illegal drug.

I got pissed in Coventry on Friday night. I had missed my dinner and quickly became belligerent and horrible, because I was pissed and we were in Coventry. My mate gave me a massive packet of balsamic crisps to sober me up and I threw them at a train.

I lie every single day in Pret. They're so chipper and nice and incomprehensibly upbeat in a way that is completely unattainable to me and makes me feel desperately sad. And then I lie to them. "Eat in or take away?" they ask. And I say "take away" to save like 20p, and then sidle into a corner with my hummus wrap with my back to them hoping they don't recognise me, which they obviously do, but are too FUCKING NICE to say anything. And for a brief moment I'm buoyed by the sense of conning the government out of VAT. And then I feel awful. Because not only have I lied to Pret, I am technically robbing from the NHS too.

I was on the bus the other day and inspectors made a woman get off because she didn't have a ticket. She simply agreed to get off and nonchalantly waited to get on the back door of the next new Routemaster. The inspectors could easily see her sitting on the little plastic bench looking down the road from the top deck, and started talking about how they would get off at the next stop and wait for the next bus, well and truly busting her. So if you get caught enjoying some free travel, pretend to hurry off as if you're going to be late, until the inspectors are out of sight.

Before I started paying £330 a month for a travel card I used to pay like £8 each way for my own small standing patch of a sweaty, delayed London Midlands train into London. Sometimes after work, when I had been drinking expensive pints into the evening to try and forget about said sweaty armpit train, the barriers at Euston would be left open and I'd just hop right on. I never felt bad about not tapping in because the other constituents of any trains running after 11PM into the far flung Greater London area would inevitably be super messy drunk people eating Burger King and crying. It is just too gross and dank an environment to pay good money to be a part of. And so it never feels like a crime, more like the righting of an injustice.

I faked being robbed to get money out of my insurance company. I'd spilled coffee on my laptop so it cost as much to repair as to buy a new, which was fine: at the time I was paying £400 a year for insurance. But it turned out only to cover me if my stuff got stolen, because I didn't have a stupid add-on for £20 more a year that allowed my stuff to get destroyed by coffee.

I was so angry about the fact that I had to buy a new one even though I was expensively insured that I called them up and pretended I got robbed for it, and threw my iPhone in as well to make it more convincing. I had to repeat the exact same story on the phone to the police as well – very awkward – buuut I got £1,500. Score!

More stuff about crime:

Tales of Everyday Supermarket Self-Service Checkout Scams

How the Bedroom Tax Led to the Rise of Grandmas Growing Weed

Inside the Lives of the British Heroin Addicts Who Steal from Supermarkets to Fund Their Use