Bob the Luckiest Man in London Bob was the luckiest man in London. At least, that’s what he told himself as he strolled to his brand-new job, phone in hand, reading an article with the cheerful headline: “London: Zero Crime City!” Just as he was nodding at the brilliance of modern society, an e-bike whizzed past. The rider, looking like he’d just stolen the bike from an Amazon warehouse, snatched Bob’s phone clean out of his hand. “Unbelievable!” Bob gasped. Then he remembered the headline. Maybe this was performance art. When he reached the glass doors of his new workplace, Bob proudly announced, “I’m here for my first day!” “Great,” said HR. “Can we see your Digital ID?” “It’s on my phone,” Bob admitted. “Which you no longer have?” “Correct.” “Then you no longer have employment. Good luck!” The door clicked shut. By noon, Bob discovered that without his phone he couldn’t pay for the Tube, couldn’t buy lunch, and couldn’t even prove he existed. By evening, he trudged back to his rented flat, only to find someone else in it. “Excuse me, that’s my flat,” Bob said. “No,” replied the stranger confidently, waving Bob’s stolen digital ID. “This is my flat. Look — official photo.” “But that’s not even me! He’s six inches taller and has a beard!” The landlord peeked out. “Well, he has the ID and you don’t. Also, rent’s due. Out you go.” Slam. Bob sighed and sat on the curb, the luckiest man in London reduced to a pavement philosopher. Just then, police officers marched out of his old flat dragging the ID thief in cuffs. “Justice at last!” Bob thought. The thief struggled. “I swear, I’m not Bob! He’s Bob! Look at him!” He pointed frantically at Bob. The officers burst out laughing. “Nice try. You know the law — fake identities don’t fool us.” Bob blinked. “Wait, what’s he being arrested for?” “Oh, a crime against the state,” said one officer cheerfully. “He posted a mean comment about the government online this morning.” Bob’s stomach dropped. He had posted that. A little joke about the Prime Minister’s haircut. “That wasn’t him, it was me!” Bob blurted out. The officers chuckled again. “Sure it was, mate. Pull the other one.” They shoved the thief toward a nearby van, painted ominously with the words: “Mobile Execution Service — Same Day Justice!” As the door slammed and the van rumbled off, Bob sat frozen, realizing that his identity had just saved his life. Yes, Bob truly was the luckiest man in London.