I have, very recently, got my first mortgage!
The guy who sold it to me, was a guy about my age, and pretty friendly.

We would chat about this and that while he filled out all manner of forms. Then he mentioned that he was to either be sacked, or get a big promotion. He was sick of having to ruin people's dreams and deny them money, and, let's face it, the finance sector is in a bit of a pickle at the moment!

Anyway, as he was probably going to leave, he didn't care about comission, and just gave us the truth.

One Conversation went like this:
Him "Have you sorted out life insurance?"
Me "Errr... not yet, we were going to get it with the mortgage."
Him "Don't, it's too expensive. In fact, only buy your mortgage from us, everything else is a rip off. Make sure you go elsewhere."

He even managed to get us more than we were technically allowed as the bank manager wasn't in that day to veto the application. He also tried to get my entry for a competition for a trip to see the Lions in South Africa sent as the only entry from that branch, but that didn't work.

He was a nice guy, the only nice bank person I've ever known. He is now embarking on a career in wine. That's the kind of career I want.

The final great thing he did?! He got me a badge that says "Ask me about mortgages". I'm now the coolest kid in town... Ohhhh yeah...
(The Kwyjibo A big, dumb, balding North American ape., Thu 16 Jul 2009, 14:36, 3 replies)

Fines incurred
About a year ago I misjudged how much money I had left in my account and ended up exceeding my overdraft. By quite a bit.

Anyway, my bank has a policy that you are charged £25 for every card transaction you make past the overdraft limit, plus a £28 administration fee. Which doesn't make sense in my book, because if you have so little money in the first place how are you supposed to pay the charges?

Because I rent and move a lot, I get all my letters sent to my parent's house overseas and they post it on to me, and in this case I had a sheaf of envelopes sent on. My panic increased as I kept opening them to see the same thing again and again- fines incurred. It turned out that an expensive card purchase I'd made had been taken out sooner than I expected leaving me in the (what's past red- infared?). And over the past few days I'd used my card for about a dozen little purchases, some of less than £2. And they had received the £20-odd fines too.

So I hurried down to the bank to see what could be done. I was labouring under the impression that it was all a big mix-up and I'd be acquitted when I explained the oh-so-silly mistake. No dice. I 'spoke' to a financial advisor who actually had one ear to a phone the whole time, and seemed to only be paying scant attention to what I was saying. When she informed me that I'd racked up fines of around £320 I embarrassingly burst into tears. Right in the middle of the bank. I had no income and was relying on student loans (the next one wasn't due for another month) and I not only had bills long overdue but was facing starvation!

After a few panicked phonecalls, I decided to head to the bank's other branch across town to see if they could be any more helpful. I was greeted by a chatty young employee to whom I recounted my tale of woe and was surprised by his reaction of laughing. He told me how he'd got into similar trouble when writing dodgy cheques as a student (is this the sort of thing bank employees have done?) and said that it was unfortunate but I'd have to deal with the consequences. He then went on to have quite a lengthly conversation with me about unrelated matters. When I was beginning to wonder whether he was hitting on me, his subject matter (but not his tone) abruptly changed. Anyone within earshot had probably already got bored of listening by now, as he fed me instructions not unlike these:

"So, about your fines, unfortunately there's no way around this unless you know to phone this number *whispers and writes it down*, and were aware that you had to speak to *such-and-such*. Of course, I couldn't divulge the information that would help you but if you were an employee of this bank you'd know to say *such-and-such*. Make sure you quote *more info, while writing down bullet points*. And even if I had told you this, which I haven't, you'd not be able to get a direct line unless you phoned from a branch *ushering me into his office*."

He then stood outside the door 'guarding' it while I phoned the number and proceeded to mechanically state all I could remember. To be honest, I had no idea of what I was doing, but amazingly I was told that most of my charges had been overlooked as a 'goodwill gesture' and I now only owed just over £70 (which was bad enough, but miles better than over £300!).


I'll never forget what that nice employee did for me, it was a real heart-warming example of human kindness. And I survived the charges but not without a severe ear-bashing from the folks.
(I'm not here was here on, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 14:28, 9 replies)

We're here to help...
Quite frankly, I’d rather be stripped stark bollock naked, have a dozen-or-so ripe oranges attached to my cock and balls with rusty hooks, then be locked in a room with a load of horny drunk gorillas who’ve had their breakfast lettuce spiked with Viagra for a couple of hours of interspecies group homo rapage than have to deal with banks...

Allow me tell you about the utter fuckwittedness, utter contempt, utter dim-witted cuntishness of these complete and utter cock-sucking, monkey-felching, shrunken gonaded, disease ridden gobshite wankers...

Last summer my girlfriend had a seven hour operation up at University College London Hospital. They day before she went in I trotted off to withdraw some cash from her account.; We were on the bones of our arse, we were living on absolutely fuck all. We’d only moved into our new flat in March, and then she got ill, really ill – we ended up surviving on my wage alone, which meant we could pay the bills, but when everything came out we were left with about forty quid a month to feed ourselves and purchase prescriptions for Liz (my girlfriend). It was a really fucking hard few months. Anyway, off I trot to the cash machine. We’d budgeted so we’d have enough to get a taxi down to the hospital and another one back after Liz’s op – yes, we really were that skint, counting every single last fucking penny.

But the ATM didn’t work. There was no money in the account. I panicked a bit, flapped my arms about, felt like being sick, then composed myself a bit and went back to the flat to rang Liz’s bank. Firstly, they wouldn’t speak to me. Even though I explained my girlfriend was on more medication than Keith Richards at an all-you-can-snort drugs buffet, they had to speak to Liz. She took the phone, had a chat with the mong cunt on the other end of the line. Then she started to cry. Turns out some fucker had cloned Liz’s card and raped her bank account. She was even asked if she’d been in New York at three am the previous morning, and also if she’d been in Turin at four am – apparently that’s where the last few quid we had in the bank had been withdrawn.

I took the phone. Explained that my girlfriend was very seriously ill, was having a major op in the morning, and we needed this cash back asap so I could at least get Liz to the hospital in the morning. The bank said no. I got really fucking angry, asked to speak to a supervisor. Told them the same story. After ten minutes of talking, the supervisor paused for a bit and said: “So, you’re not named on the account?” I said “no, as I’ve just explained to you, it’s my girlfriends account.” And then they cut me off.

I rang back. Twenty minutes later, after explaining the situation for a third time – having to get Liz who was off her tits on morphine patches to give her consent to let me talk to these fuckers, I finally got someone who was willing to help. They said they understood the situation perfectly. They agreed that it wasn’t possible to be in New York at 3 and Turin at 4 (not unless you were fucking Superman or had access to a fucking Tardis), and they said they’d have the money refunded back the next day. Great. Half an hour in and I’d finally cracked it.

But there was one problem: “You’re girlfriend just has to go into her local branch tomorrow morning and sign some paperwork, and we’ll get that sorted for you,” oozed the cunt on the phone.

“But, I’ve just explained my girlfriend’s going into hospital tomorrow at 7am for a major operation... She’s in agony and can hardly move, she’s on bloody morphine, for Christ’s sake!”

And then the complete and utter dickweed, the prize cunt in the brothel of the world’s greatest cunts said something utterly unbelievable, something that made me cut the fucker off without a word. Something that made me want to get in touch with my dodgy Uncle Antonio in Italy and see if he could arrange to have some of his connected friends pay this utter fetid spunkstain bollock-broth abortion of a human beign a visit. The cunt said: “If your girlfriend’s serious about wanting the funds back tomorrow I think she needs to get her priorities right...”

I ended up borrowing some cash off a mate. I hate borrowing money and its the first time in my life I've ever asked a mate to help out financially. And unfortunately every fucking word of this is absolutely true. The bank in question is named Nasty West, by the way, or something very close to that...

EDIT: Liz had a successful op, her lady-area is now fully operational, and we're currently trying for a baby (not at this very minute, my boss might be a bit pissed off about that). So, fingers crossed, Spanky Jr might be looking up the skirts of the girls at the nursery very soon(ish)... I'd be so damn proud.
( SpankyHanky, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 14:20, 20 replies)

I don't usually take an instant dislike to people
based purely on their occupation.

But Bankers I'll happily make an exception to. Cunts.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 14:15, Reply)

I applied for a job in a bank once.
It was to be part of their IT department, not working as a cashier.

I got through the first couple of interviews, then went to their main office in London to do a final thing with HR, where they announced that they wanted me to do an aptitude test. I hate doing these, and frankly I thought they should probably have done that first anyway, but never mind. The HR woman showed me into an empty meeting-room, gave me the little booklet of questions and left me to it.

After about ten minutes, the lights went off.

"Hmm" I thought, "motion-sensitive lights eh?".

I waved an arm in the air. The lights stayed off.

I stood up. The lights stayed off.

I waved both arms around. The lights stayed off.

I walked around a bit, waving my arms in a hopeful manner. Still nothing.

"Bugger" I thought. But it wasn't totally pitch black in the room, there was light coming in from the office next door through a fanlight, so I sat down again and pressed on in the gloaming. Suddenly the HR woman comes back in.

"Oh sorry!" she says, and flicks a switch to put the lights back on.

"Ah, so you need to press a switch to get the lights on do you?" I asked.

"Er, yes."

"Oh. That explains why I couldn't turn them on"

"Right."

Well, the test was finished and I was sent on my way. At which point I discovered to my surprise that the wall with the fanlights was actually a two-way mirror, and that the office on the other side was full of people sniggering.

I didn't get the job. I wasn't sure whether it was because my future colleagues had witnessed me apparently attempting to take flight or whether it was because I was evidently so fuckwitted that I didn't know how to turn a light on.

Personally I blame the aptitude test. I hate those bloody things.
(richardm, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 14:11, 3 replies)

Bugger!
I had some interesting tales to tell about wanking, then I re-read the question.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 14:11, Reply)

I threatened mine with court action over bank charges
Letters back and forth from their solicitors went on for 3 months, then they caved in and sent me cheque for £4500. Ha! Take that you fuckers!

I've got another £1200 coming soon too hopefully. Costs them £30 to send me a letter saying I'm overdrawn? My arse it does.
( LemonEntryMyDearWatson This time, Moriarty, the hand is on the other foot, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 14:04, 6 replies)

Place holder
Please think twice before adding line breaks -- your post will be skipped over if it looks too spread out or is a wall of text.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 14:01, 1 reply)

Due to a bank error
I found myself £200 better off.

I was able to buy a hotel on Park Lane. Still lost the game though.
( MisterPunch did it that way on, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:59, 2 replies)

there was a cash point at our local tescos
started giving out twice as much cash than it debited. News got about and soon there was a sizable queue

I had 14 quid in the bank at the fucking time...
Oh joy
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:57, 2 replies)

Tortured in the Bank
I worked in a bank for a while between student-stints: the Maypole branch of Birmingham Midshires, just after it had demutualised.

The hitherto part-owners of the erstwhile building society had been offered a choice of cash or shares when it became a bank, and a lot had gone for the cash. Bafflingly, they then tended to withdraw it all at once.

Part of my job involved checking the daily cash delivery; and, because of the payout, this was quite sizeable. It'd vary from day to day, but could be anything between sixty and a couple of hundred thousand pounds - and perhaps a bit more now and again. Given that I was pretty penniless, this could be torture.

Once or twice I put it all into a carrier bag and just held it, simply to know what it'd feel like.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:57, 3 replies)

I have worked in a number of banks in my time
it has been work experience, or temping.

highlights included: being left in the vault at age 15 with £100,000 in several bundles and a highlighter and instructed to draw up the front, across the top and down the back of each bundle.
While temping, I was basically the phone monkey, dealing with peoples queries and, usually, complaints. Best bit was when I had to take the phone from one of the permanent staff and explain something to an irate customer, despite having no actual knowledge of the subject. Bank cashiers are almost all idiots.

My favourite bit however was temping at a branch of Natwest on a uni campus, basically part of a team signing up freshers for their student accounts. Several bits of this were amusing: Exeter Uni students are renowned for being spoiled rich kids. I actually heard the words "no thanks I've got daddy's gold card" more than once while trying to sign people up for credit cards. There was a particularly fine crop of nubile 18 year old girls going to uni that year. Easiest (particularly on the eye) few weeks work I've ever done.
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:55, 2 replies)

Ah banks...I've got a tale...
I used to bank with an institution that rhythms with 'haemorrhoids' (and let's be honest - they are a pain in the arse) - had my (meagre) wages paid in there, direct debits setup for bills etc., everything was great.

Then, after a few years with them, one month I got a letter saying a direct debit hadn't been paid.

"Strange," thinks I, "There was money in there...". After investigating online (I chose this option to do my bit and save the trees or some such bollocks, so no paper except for the monthly statement), I found that all of my carefully planned debits had been cancelled.

Being the generally peace loving chap I am, I cheerfully set them all up again, spreading them over the month as before so avoid any bank charges for going over my overdraft (what overdraft?).

Next month - same thing...grr. I, slightly less cheerfully than before, set them up again.

Next month - same thing. Set them all up again, and went back to my happy place.

Wasn't until I decided to top up a pay-as-you-go mobile using the ATM one morning that I realised something was up - the machine kept my card.

Fuming, I got to work, logged into my account to find that yes, I had cash in there and therefore should have been ok with the top-up. As soon as they opened (and I'd managed to track down a number for the local branch), I called the bank to ask what the blithering fuck was going on?

Their reply? "But sir, your account was closed 3 months ago."

WTF?

They. Closed. My. Account.

Without notifying me in anyway.

When I pointed this out to the drone on the phone (heh - poetry), they assured me I'd been sent a letter. I pointed out that mine was a paperless account and I only get the monthly statements and had received no notification - why would I continue to have my wages paid into a closed account?

After about 20 minutes of this, I'd had enough. "Right!" I roared (poetic license), "I'll be down in about 15 minutes, and you'd better have the balance of my account, in cash ready for me." and hung up.

Got to the bank, presented myself to the cashier and told them I'd come to pickup the balance from my account. She wandered off and came back 2 minutes later saying "A cheque will be sent out to your address..."

I lost the plot at this point, demanded to see a supervisor, informed them that THEY'D shut my account with no notification to me, and that if I didn't get EVERY SINGLE PENNY, PLUS DUE INTEREST, I'd be phoning the old bill regarding theft.

Took them about 45 seconds to count out the £83.47 or so, I stuck 2 fingers up at the camera, mooned it, and fucked off.

So now I use another set of wbankers now, and they even allow me an overdraft...

Apologies for lack of funneh, but there's nothing funny about banks.

Length? about 3 years now, and still happy(ish)
( snee held his breath since, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:47, 7 replies)

Internet wanking
I refuse to join modern times 'cos I won't do the Internet Banking thing. This is mainly born out of the fact that one of my mates helped design the security system which is used by several major banks. The security on most internet banking sites has more holes than swiss cheese.

He once demonstrated how bad it was by using nothing but a lap top a pub's internet connection, 6 pints of stella and the name read from a card being used at the bar.
(TeabagSalad Never teabag a troll, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:47, 3 replies)

Whats that you say?
there's a note on my account?

THERE'S ALWAYS A FUCKING NOTE ON MY ACCOUNT and when u put me thru the person you've sidetracked me into talking to, they clearly aren't expecting me!

Sorry. this was just a rant. i think i'll delete it...
(TheManofScience, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:46, Reply)

RBS Reject
I used to bank with RBS in my student days - always living in my overdraft, that kind of thing. Anyway, once I was finally getting back on an even keel, the bastards closed my account and posted me a cheque for the amount it contained. "WTF AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT?" I thought to myself, as this had been the one and only bank account I'd ever had.

I have to laugh now when I look back - there's no way I'd have expected to be a part owner of the company within 10 years.
( Conman the Barbarian, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:44, Reply)

I keep some of my money in a bank account
The end
( Captain V, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:42, Reply)

well how about this...
one guy was charged $23,148,855,308,184,500 (twenty-three quadrillion, one hundred forty-eight trillion, eight hundred fifty-five billion, three hundred eight million, one hundred eighty-four thousand, five hundred dollars) when buying some Cigarettes. (linkage)

Whoops, much?
(tb2571989 dies at precisely, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:41, 3 replies)

Banker rhymes with wanker for a reason
That's all I've got to say on the matter.

And surely this has all bindun already in the Credit Crunch question?

Hmmm.
(Errin C, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:34, 11 replies)

I used to work for a bank....
For a while I fixed banking computers for Lloyds-TSB. Despite doing the job for a year, it has given me a wealth of stories to tell. These are pretty geeky, but highlights include...

Opening a 4704 (a big old banking computer) to upgrade it to a massive 512KB of RAM (yes... really). Inside I found dust bunnies the size of my face and a wodge of old oncers which someone had helpfully stuffed in there.

Walking into a staff break room. The branch was entirely staffed by women and they'd "decorated" the walls with cut outs from magazines. All the pictures were of semi-naked guys with long black hair. I am a (fully clothed) guy with long black hair. I've never felt more uncomfortable in my life.

Watching a series of ATMs being "upgraded" to Windows - then having to wire them up to a token ring network. This was 2002!

Finally, I was in a branch at the end of the day - the chief cashier had forgotten to order any fivers for delivery in the morning. So she popped over to HSBC to see if they could order extra.
The next morning, I watched her fill a Sainsbury's carrier bag with £50 notes, walk across the street and return a few minutes later with a couple of bags of fivers. Security? Yeah, they'd heard of it!

Never trust a bank with anything. Keep your money in your mattress.
(Terry, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:32, 4 replies)

There's a few stories going around about a big american bank having a glitch in their online bank creation system
and banning the people who it effects

consumerist.com/5308363/bank-of-america-bans-customer-for-life
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:30, Reply)

eighth?
Boo and hiss ninth... but then I've always been a bit shit with numbers.
Before starting uni I'd been earning £250 a week without paying tax (which actually wasn't too bad without any real outgoings back in '97).Needless to say that I became accustomed to spending this without having anything much to show for it... all the while telling my dear mother that I couldn't afford to contribute money to the house as I was saving for uni - getting piss fit would have been a better description.

Upon arriveing at Uni I signed up with Barclays as the girl signing us up was cute. I didn't get a sniff, but I did now have a £1,000 a credit card and my grant cheque (it was the last year of grants for the poor). The downside was that you had to constantly request for the overdraft limit to be upped. So by Christmas (end of only the first term) I had to venture in to see my unfriendly bank manager, let's call him Mr Cunt, for that he was.

AW: Hello, can you extend my overdraft limit from £750 to £1,000?
MC: Well, we'll have to see. I just need to go through your account.
[after a few minutes looking on screen]
MC: Good God! What have you been doing? Look you spent £200 that week, and here you've spent over £300!! There's no way that I am going to increase your limit.
AW: But hold on, the limit clearly states £1,000 for first years. I'm in my first year and have not reached that limit, so you're not exactly doing me a favour here -
MC: Well what do you think an overdraft facility is a gift?
AW: No, clearly it is not a gift. It is an incentive offered by your bank to help entice me and other students use your services once we're in a position to earn money. Given it's highly probable that my monthly wage once I qualify will be considerably more than £1,000 I do not see what the problem is.
MC: The problem is that you are spending money irresponsibly.
AW: Thanks for the tip Dad, but I am not your personal responsibility. Irresponsible as you may feel that I am, you as a bank are not honouring your end of the deal by not providing me with what you said you would. It's now almost Christmas and you're leaving me in a position where I have no access to money. You know full well that I will be receiving cheque in January - or your bank would not lent me moeny in the first place. So again, can you please give me the limit advertised which is £1,000.
MC: No. You'll just have to use you Barclay Card.
AW: Really? So you're suggesting I'lll be more responsible with that?
MC: That's not my concern Mr Wound, but I will not be increasing your overdraft facility.

I went out and maxed the card's £500 limit buying nice presents for my family and of course had a great, Christmas, birthday and New Year. When I returned picked up the cheque went to RBS made up some bullshit story about having an account with Staffordshire Building Society and because there wasn't one locally I wanted a new account. They promptly opened it and gave me a £1,200 limit.

They eventually caught up with me, but couldn't charge me interest as I was still a student. My mum couldn't afford to help me out, but was really helpful and supportive. They tried to bully me for quite a while... but eventually we struck a deal as it was costing them more in administration than it was worth - when you consider there are unemployed people who owe more than £20k, you can see that most debts are manageable. Don't buy into their threats, and generally you'll get a nice person - they seem to like playing good cop bad cop. So that was really the only thing I learnt from uni was how to manage seemingly unmanageable debt and to help out you're mum/parents when you can.
( @><|= w0nu!) or cunt to my friends, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:30, Reply)

All a bank wants to do is get you into debt.
So they can lend you money they don't have and get that back plus whatever interest rate you've idiotically agreed to. If this then goes wrong by them lending too much money they don't have and they can't pay back the central bank the money they also didn't have you give them enough through a bank-bailout so that they can then lend it back to you at interest making you pay twice for the privalege of having your own money. Simple, biggest bunch of cunts on the planet next to the Catholic church - cheers.
( Brandy_Bumwinkle, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:30, 2 replies)

A friend of mine
Phoned one bank or other, enquiring about an advert he'd seen for a £2,500 any-purpose loan. When asked what the money would be for he replied;

"Ah, its for a couple of medium sized sub-machine guns. Were planning on robbing a bank. So I can have the money back next week if you like, everybody wins... Hello?...Hello?"
(Is this a good idea? ... Yes this is definitely a good idea, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:26, Reply)

Cashier number six please
Our account manager tried to sell a large bank a load of cisco kit on a 5% credit deal over 5 years. Fugging numbskull. I don't know why I work for such a bunch of cretins.

Still it has it's plus sides. I once went to fix one of their printers and asked for some paper to test it. Was handed a box full of blank perforated cheques (it was a cheque printer) and left too it.

(had a fag in the deed vault once, but that's another story)
( buffet_the_appetite_slayer ٩(●̮̃•)۶ jacked in to the ICE on, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:24, Reply)

banks
wankers the lot of them.

4th?
(betty swollocks, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:22, Reply)

First
?
(How soon is now?, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:21, Reply)

first? eh, close enough.
Back when I was a silly teenager with my first girlfriend, I made the mistake of moving in with her. A few months later, I owned a house, had a £5000 loan and a £500 joint overdraft with Lloyds TSB, plus a £500 joint overdraft with First Direct.

As these things tend to go, she chose this point to tell me she wanted kids *now*, as opposed to about 6 years down the line as we'd both previously discussed. My point-blank refusal to even discuss the idea, combined with her persuasive approach of coming off the pill and 'getting horny' conspired to result in me telling her to fuck right off.

So I moved back in with the parents with my £3000 debt, and set about arranging with the banks to pay everything off. I called Lloyds, who froze the joint account, and agreed to pay £50/month off the overdraft, and stick to the existing payments on the loan. All well and good so far. I called First Direct, who agreed the same repayment terms on the overdraft.

Anyway, come payment time, I duly put £50 in each account. A few days later, I checked the balances. First direct: £-450. Lloyds TSB: £-510.

Wait, what? I'd just paid £50 off a £500 debt...how was I more in debt than I started? To my branch, where they had a machine that could print a full statement immediately instead of the shitty mini-statements the cashpoints give you. I discover they've unlocked the account to deposit the money, charged me interest on the outstanding amount, a fee because the interest had taken me over the overdraft limit, and various other charges totalling £60.

I wrote to Lloyds, telling them that I'd be putting the agreed £50/month into a seperate account in readiness for them, but I wouldn't be making any further payments until they could assure me that I wouldn't be increasing my debt by doing so.

They never wrote back. I never made another payment to either the overdraft or the loan. They never chased the lack of payments. Everyone was happy.

They're still a bunch of useless cunts though.
(bblgoose, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:21, Reply)

First?
EDIT: Woohoo!
(Petite chien is going to do science to it, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:21, 2 replies)