I HAVE a confession to make. Like many of you (one in four, apparently) I once consciously uncoupled an item from the supermarket without paying. Put that taser down, Constable – I’ll come quietly. Your offer of free food and lodgings at the kind hospitality of Her Majesty will allow me to catch up with some reading. And, of course, get totally ripped.

In preparation, a somewhat undignified defiance of the human body’s physical limitations has allowed me to hide my phone (regrettably, a phablet), but it seems I could actually avoid incarceration altogether by getting off on a wee technicality.

As each cell in our bodies undergoes complete regeneration every seven or so years, that six-year-old version of me who once strode valiantly past the tills with a plastic He-Man figure under his shellsuit top doesn’t actually exist anymore. He’s long gone. All that survives are the memories of his daring heist trapped inside this completely regenerated head. Nothing physical at all remains of the wee crook this consciousness once controlled.

Hardened criminals reading this from their prison cells should note, however, that the “It wasn’t me” defence – also favoured by pop star Shaggy – may not cut the mustard in any appeal hearing, despite its scientific legitimacy.

It remains a dangerous truth, however – one capable of terraforming the planet into Grand Theft Auto overnight if a lawyer could convince a jury, just once, that the neurons which sparked their client’s criminal thoughts are long gone.

Despite the logic, it’s quite clear we can’t just put every criminal back on the streets once their brain cells regenerate – at least not until the elites’ sky galleons take them safely to their luxury moonbase.

But if a recent study shining a spotlight upon supermarket thievery is true, it seems there will be plenty of new folk to fill all those empty cells once the legal system does the honourable thing. In the UK alone, one-quarter of shoppers now admit stealing when using self-service checkouts. Although the average thief only makes off with £15 worth of goods a month, it all adds up to a staggering £1.6 billion every year.

This is a form of shoplifting so prevalent that it has almost become normalised – leading some psychologists to venture that the lack of human interaction in supermarkets – and the self-serve machines themselves – are criminogenic. Meaning, they turn otherwise honest folk into brazen, remorseless thieves – thrillseeking crims who convince themselves it’s just a harmless wee rebellion against evil conglomerates.

Yet, as the prices go up for everyone to compensate corporate losses, it seems these virtue-signalling bandits are not Robin Hood but simply, well, robbing food. The belief you’re working for the supermarket by doing the job of the cashier, unfortunately, will never entitle one to a staff discount.

A self-serving invention

RESEMBLING a bank of photocopiers on the Death Star, the advent of your local supermarket’s self-service checkout was supposed to usher in a futuristic new dawn of convenience – alleviating queuing and reducing stress. Not to mention the parallel reduction in “human resources”, that darkly Orwellian phraseology which helpfully de-personalises the dispensable flesh inflating the wage bill.

Humble by name but not by nature, self-serve till inventor David R Humble described his product as “revolutionary” and predicted it would “sweep all of retail” – whatever that means. “Many marvelled,” the Los Angeles Times drolly reported during its big reveal at a LA trade convention in 1984. Coincidentally, the same year I slipped past a human cashier with He-Man.

When they eventually reached UK stores about a decade ago, these machines certainly offered customers unexpected levels of autonomy, and, yes, the opportunity to avoid long queues at traditional checkout tills. Yet, inevitably, real check outs began to disappear as quickly as steaks with yellow Whoops! stickers.

The number of self-service tills around the world is now predicted to reach around half a million by 2019, beckoning a completely cashier-free near future. Supermarkets are well-aware this may unleash a tsunami of light-fingered casual thievery and have known of the psychological temptation created from the very start.

This human predilection for breaking bad when the opportunity presents itself became apparent just days after the first wave of self-serve machines were installed at one major supermarket chain.

The store’s weekly inventory check showed they had sold more vegetables than were actually in stock – with some shoppers apparently buying around 200 carrots. Yet, none of these folk will become able to see in the dark – this was simply the birth of a new type of tech-savvy, guilt-free thief.

Not so secret tricks

BACK in the day, some schoolpals who couldn’t afford their favourite video game magazines often procured the services of one young chap known for his magical ability to make items disappear from shops.

His methodology was crude but effective – friends would crowd around the youngster to block the prying eyes of cashiers, as several rolled-up periodicals disappeared one by one up the Tardis-like sleeve of his oversized coat.

Now, thanks to self-serve tills, kleptomania has become a rather more sophisticated endeavour. First, there’s the two classic weight tricks. Hipster pilferers can simply press the picture of potatoes when weighing expensive avocados – or fail to place their haul fully on the scales so a lower weight registers. Note, this act may actually be justified with bananas, with at least one-third made up of unusable skin.

Other techniques, which are freely shared online on social media and dedicated forums, include obscuring barcodes while mimicking the scanning motion and also towering items together so that only the bottom scans.

Playing dumb when an assistant queries excess weight also gives these folk the chance to exercise their acting chops as they nick the lamb ones.

Some scams have gained such legend in thieving folklore that they have earned their own names – “the switcheroo” (replacing expensive barcodes with cheap ones) and “sweethearting” (when shop employees themselves pretend to scan an item before handing it to loved ones). In the latter instance, you’ll probably get away with a free 5p bag too.

The true cost of stealing

BEFORE scanning a new pair of jeans through as a coconut, note that those faceless, corporate behemoths’ profit margins are actually far tighter than many believe. Large stores taking in around £1 million revenue each week are expected to deliver about 10% bottom line profit – against strong competition from discount competitors.

That margin is actually a hell of a lot less than the return expected for this newspaper you’re holding – so much for the dying print industry.

Yet, despite inspiring rampant theft, self-service machines are still infinitely more profitable and less hassle than actually employing real people. But don’t think such savings cause stores to turn a blind eye to self-serve theft. Collectively, supermarkets are all now making sizable efforts to clamp down on the casual criminality of their clientele.

Sainsbury’s, for example, has fitted new state-of-the-art cameras directly above self-serve tills. Now, both your morality and bald spot will be under close scrutiny.

Other supermarkets will soon adopt highly-sophisticated tech to nail purloiners, who will have nowhere to hide from “StopLife” – artificial intelligence software which utilises algorithms to determine every possible outcome of a shopper’s actions at the checkout. Twitchy facial expressions will alert security long before you scan that venison burger through as an apple.

And for those who think they’re home and dry after leaving a shop with haul intact – think again. Many stores now simply take an image of suspected shoplifters and use recognition software to track them each time they enter the premises, building a solid case for the Procurator Fiscal.

A single moment of weakness may see you let off with a slapped wrist, but not a recorded catalogue of events. Free steaks one day, free porridge the next.

And finally ...

SO, with human interaction now proven to be the only thing keeping us on the straight and narrow, perhaps it’s time to consider what we gain exactly – and who really benefits – from automaton and modern day “convenience”.

With a seismic societal revolution in AI currently clawing on the door of the Western world, many panicked governments are considering radical approaches such as universal income to solve the fast-approaching employment crisis. Certainly, we can’t rely upon the private sector to adopt an approach to untethered capitalism that doesn’t involve human cost-cutting.

Yet, how many of us are blessed with lives of such significance that an extra five minutes of time is essential to happiness and wellbeing? The vast majority of folk undoubtedly use efficiency savings from the supermarket queue on Netflix binges and scrolling hate-filled social media feeds.

Perhaps this can inspire a deeply unusual protest movement – one where we actually choose to spend a few minutes physically interacting with a fellow human. In this instance, the endangered cashier species.

From wee acorns, big trees grow. The butterfly effect may enable shoppers' small gesture to ultimately end the reign of automation, perhaps snapping us all out of our isolationist comas. Taking part in this wee experiment may also be a solid investment in your own future, because no matter what you do for a living - or how good you are at it - the software of the future will be better and, vitally, cheaper.

First they came for the cashiers ...