Odd this day
12 years ago today, Der Spiegel reported that thieves had stolen a biscuit. Yes, just the one.
This heinous crime took place in Hanover, where
thieves chose an unusual prey: They stole a gold-plated oversized biscuit that was attached to the Bahlsen headquarters.
The 20kg gold-plated brass biscuit had been outside the company’s building for at least a century, which may explain the first oddity about the case: the last time anyone had definitely seen it was 20 full days earlier, and it was only reported missing on 21 January. It’s tempting to suggest that everyone was so used to it being there that no one had bothered looking up as they went in, out, or past — but it may simply be that it was nicked overnight on 20th, and that when police came to investigate, nobody was entirely sure when they’d last seen it.
This is a minor detail, though, and things are about to get much sillier. I’m indebted to Letters of Note for alerting me to this story, which they alighted on because the first very silly thing is this ransom note, delivered to the offices of the Hannoversche Allgemeine Zeitung (HAZ) newspaper on 28 or possibly 29 January:
The signoff there is important, because the culprit also enclosed a self portrait of them holding the stolen property.
Krümelmonster is, yes, of course — German for Cookie Monster. He or she had pasted letters saying:
I have the biscuit! You want it and therefore you want on one day in February, to give biscuits to all the children in Bult hospital.
Their demands were admirably precise, in fact:
But those with milk chocolate, not those with dark chocolate and not those without chocolate. And a golden biscuit for the child cancer ward.
Bahlsen had already offered €1,000 for information which led to the thief’s arrest, a point which Cookie Monster addressed. The sum should go to a local animal shelter. Any failure to comply would see the cookie
end up with Oskar in the dustbin
These were wild desperadoes, clearly. Spiegel reported that
another letter with the same demands has also been received by Bahlsen. The company’s legal department is examining the letter. A Bahlsen spokeswoman said: “This is not a marketing campaign by our company, not at all.”
…begging the response: I didn’t think it was a Bahlsen publicity stunt.
Until now.
The company was not about to bow to the demands of dangerous extremists, however. They gave a press conference on 30 January and/or issued a statement on Facebook (the details are a little confused), in which — according to Wikipedia:
Bahlsen refused to comply with the extortionist’s demands.
…and according to HAZ, the head of the company said:
We will not allow ourselves to be blackmailed. We will not agree to the demand.
So, they definitely weren’t going to give any biscuits away? Well… according to the Independent:
Bahlsen promised to donate 52,000 packets of biscuits to charities if the 20 kg (44 pound) golden biscuit was returned.
Righto.
Anyway, on 4 February, HAZ — which by now was referring to the story as Crumbgate (well, obviously) — reported that they’d had another letter:
“Because Werni loves the biscuit as much as I do and he’s always crying and misses the biscuit so much, I’m giving it back!!!”
‘Werni’ refers to Werner Michael Bahlsen, head of the traditional Hanover-based company, who had demanded the return of the biscuit. And a mere day later: joy! The biscuit was found. Back to Spiegel:
a golden cookie was discovered in front of the Leibniz University on Tuesday morning. However, the police initially did not confirm that it was actually the gold-plated symbol of the Bahlsen company. The biscuit, decorated with a red bow, was attached with a chain to the neck of the university’s Lower Saxony horse monument … Firefighters who had arrived in a ladder truck removed the biscuit from the horse’s neck.
I particularly like the fact that in this article “a police spokesman” said:
It could be that it is the Bahlsen biscuit.
…because, obviously, it could have been some other 20kg bronze, gold-plated biscuit, manufactured in a fortnight by hardened criminals determined to keep the original, and it was important to establish the facts before going on the record. Anyway, the cops were well and truly on the case. On 6 February, HAZ reported that
investigators secured the video camera recordings from all trams on lines 4 and 5 that had stopped at the stop in front of the Leibniz University between Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning
…and that the biscuit
is currently in the laboratories of the Lower Saxony State Office of Criminal Investigation. Experts are examining the 20 kilogram metal plate for DNA, microfiber and fingerprints.
There were also sightings of suspicious people with a ladder at the base of the statue, and, preposterously, a report of
… a sensation in the Linden discotheque Chez Heinz. During an event on Saturday, guests suddenly appeared in the club on Liepmannstrasse carrying a golden Leibniz biscuit under their arm. “We immediately asked them about it, but it quickly became clear that the guests had made a dummy of the landmark”, said one of the operators. Nevertheless, numerous discotheque visitors had their photos taken with the supposed company landmark that evening.
The idea that dicking about is a speciality of English (or English-speaking) people, and that Germans have no humour is clearly not true. Someone was having fun here, even if it wasn’t ‘Werni’.
Anyway, there were more letters. On Thursday 7th, Cookie Monster reminded Bahlsen of its obligations to share 52,000 packets of biscuits with 52 charities — numbers apparently chosen in reference to the 52 ‘teeth’ on the edges of the biscuit in question (although there were only 34 on the metal one).
On Valentine’s Day, TV station RTL showed an interview with
three men and a woman claim[ing] to be the ‘Cookie Monster’ responsible for the theft … “Hehe, we are the Cookie Monster,” said one of them.
During the interview, everyone was masked with balaclavas and sunglasses, one of them wore a blue ‘Cookie Monster’ costume. The quartet showed no remorse.
A month later, the biscuit distribution began, and in May, the case was dropped, because no one could be sure who the terrible wrong ’uns responsible actually were. This was despite Wiesbaden advertising agency Flächenbrand running adverts saying
You have made a story out of a biscuit. We love a good story — that’s why we want you, starting immediately.
Perhaps the Cookie Monster suspected it was a ruse, and that they would turn up for interview only to have cuffs snapped on them. Quite right. A true rebel never trusts The Man.
