WHY I STOLE JONATHAN FRANZEN'S GLASSES

At one of the strangest literary events London has ever seen, on Monday night two uninvited guests stormed into Jonathan Franzen's book launch for his new novel Freedom at the Serpentine Pavillion. They proceeded to steal the author's glasses off his face, leaving a ransom note with a demand for $100,000 and a Hotmail address by way of contact. GQ's Stuart McGurk provided an eyewitness account of the theft on the nightand GQ.com subsequently got in touch with the thieves to hear their side of the story. The chief culprit was revealed to be James Fletcher (pictured above in the Pavillion), a 27-year-old postgrad from Liverpool, currently studying computational aerospace design at Imperial College London. "Some articles have suggested that the theft was perhaps a display of some kind of art," says Fletcher. "I'd just like to comment that if art is defined as something which provokes an emotional response, then I suppose it was art." He gave us his account - after first giving it to the police - of a very memorable night...

"We stumbled across this event whilst in a cab on the way through to Kensington and when stopped at the door, not quite dressed for the occasion, a bit of wavy hand rhetoric was enough to let us through into the private party. We sat drinking excessive champagne for a while and talking to some of the guests there until I realised just how dull it all was. If you're going to gatecrash a party, the highlight of it surely can't consist of several predictable nervous speeches and vacuous conversations. So I decided to do something.

I'd mentioned several times to my accomplice how much I admiredFranzen's frames and thought that they deserved to be the subject of a hostage-ransom situation. After getting a pen from the bar staff and some paper I devised a short ransom note and we vaguely mentioned to some of the guests what my intentions were. Without thinking about it for too long, I planned my escape route and then passed the ransom note along to be delivered to the victim once I'd made my move. To bide me some time, I remember shouting as I snatched the glasses off the bewildered man's face that I was with Channel 4 doing a comedy stunt. Looking back, I'm not exactly sure what that meant or why I said it.

After a few seconds I was already escaping through muddy grass and over sharp metal fences. I thought my freedom had been earned and held my prize in the air shouting and laughing with joy until I realised how many members of the security team wanted them back and, perhaps more importantly, to teach me not to damage their reputation as I felt I'd done. I ran towards the Serpentine Lake - my only route. As I approached it, senselessly and at some speed, I decided to cut through it and I dismantled my BlackBerry so that the circuits wouldn't short. I then ran into the water, wading quickly though the lake along the bank and into thick vegetation. I realised that the copy of Franzen's book that I'd helped myself to was also floating away and I eventually found myself almost shoulder-deep in the water under the branch of a tree, where I stayed for some time.

I made my way up the bank and then slowly came out of the water, realising how inept my decision to swim to the other side had been. I negotiated my way through some sharp branches and then realised that security and the police were pursuing me. I hid low down whilst many torches tried to find my face and heard voices shouting which took some time to fade away. After 15 minutes I thought I could make my escape and decided to make a run for it, but then a helicopter was flying above. Surely this wasn't for me, I thought. An airborne vehicle with infrared capabilities to track a suspect who'd stolen a pair of glasses? However, the sound of the blades persisted. I could almost feel it circling around me and began to realise the futility of my plan to ever get away without arrest. I lay still though with nothing to lose, clasping only those glasses in my hand - the only thing I had left to bargain with.

Police officers walked past me - on one occasion only feet away, but their torches didn't cross my path and then they disappeared. I thought I might have had a chance to get back into the lake and maybe conceal my heat from the camera above me before dogs and their teeth got involved. Just as I started to move, PC Garty 229 shone his torch right at my face from some distance and so I stood up and congratulated him on his work, offering a handshake. The organiser of the event was there in a suit to offer me his words of disgust and disapproval in the form of a few insults. He was less than impressed. I was arrested for theft and public order offences and then taken to Belgravia police station where I ended up in plimsolls and prisoner uniform and was then allowed to sleep for a couple of hours before being interviewed and released without any charges.

I asked the arresting officer if he had enjoyed the police interview once it was over and he said, "Well, it was certainly one where I had to suppress a few chuckles throughout."

What do I think of Jonathan Franzen? He is one of the most talented writers out there and I have the utmost respect for the man. I just hope he didn't get the wrong impression from my actions and was able to take it all in good humour. If the hijacked party, the Tube strikes and the pulverised books didn't give him a good impression of our reception for him, hopefully he can at least agree that it was an eventful visit.

Originally published in on GQ.co.uk in June 2010. Read the original post here.