Many years ago, I was around 12 at the tiem,I lived in a block of Council flats (public houising) in West London.
Each flat had it's own lockup shed outside at ground level and over a period of several days I noticed progressive damage to the sged door, due to very crude and ameteurish attempts to break in and steal my beloved bicycle and fishing tackle.
The lock was almost broken free from the frame, so I rigged the door knob with several razor blades embedded in putty underneath the knob.
Sure enough, in the very early hours of the following morninhg, a BLOOD CURDLING scream came from the shed area. I heard somebody running away and on closer inspection in the daylight, there was a very gory blood trail that I was able to follow for about a half mile, until it petered out. Nobody messed with my shed for quite some time, SWEET!