Saturday, 20 September 2008

Conning the Conners

I do not like con artists. Aside from the obvious fact that 'The Real Hustle' takes up far too much BBC3 airtime, the whole tricky dicky element irks me - if you're going to be a tea leaf you might as well take MIA's stance and '*click, lock* take ya money' and not fanny around like a street magician.

Anyway, I was just chatting with my friend Ms W, who, dispite being an intern, sleeping in her clothes on people's sofas, living off a diet of fags, Red Bull and mini picnic eggs, is for some reason still called a 'glamourous blonde', and she had this tale of urban trickery to tell:

"So I was like queuing up to buy a can of coke for my breakfast and just after I put my PIN in the machine the guy behind me starts tapping me on the shoulder. I had my ipod on high and obviously wasn't really with it, but then I see he's pointing to a five pound note on the floor to my left. It's not mine, but because he obviously thinks it is, I think 'sod it' and reach over to grab it. When I turn back my card had been stolen from the machine! The guy must have got my PIN over my shoulder and then deliberately distracted me so he could nick my card!"

Me - "That's terrible!"

"Ha, not at ALL! I have LITERALLY no money in my bank and wasn't even sure if the can of coke would go through, so I just went 'sweet!' bought a twenty pack of fags, got a free can of coke and went to work feeling incredibly happy."

And the moral of that story, dear tea leafs, is do not attempt to scam glamourous blondes... or at least not ones who are attempting to buy a can of coke on a card at 8am with eyes the size of saucers and Chromeo blaring out their headphones at inhumanly loud levels. Not because these people are clearly wonderful (although they are - unless you late for work and stuck in the queue behind them) but because they are clearly skint as hell and you would literally be better off stealing candy from a baby.

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