Reminds me of one of the teenage scrotes from where I grew up who somehow managed to nick a chequebook.
The kid went into an audio/video specialist in town and wrote a cheque for a high end TV. This was back when TVs were all using cathode-ray tubes and were bloody heavy. The guy in the shop offered to deliver it. So our plucky hero gave him his name and address.
The police were waiting for him by the time he got home.