Comfortably Dumb
I should have known a lot better - and I'm ashamed to admit it given that my profile identifies exactly who I am - but, on the strength of a first single that, despite myself, I quite liked, I was persuaded to buy the debut album by an up-and-coming New York band.

It turned out to be an utter con: a pisspoor karaoke version of Sparks' "Kimono My House", and I've not listened to it once since purchase.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Scissor Sisters.

Now: a dilemma. Does clicking "I like this" mean "Actually, I like(d) this album", or "I agree with you, Enzyme: it's complete toilet"? There's only one way to find out...
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 9:22, 4 replies)

Time to confess!
I've conned the lot of you.

You all think I'm a bored 40 something female who likes to chat to young men.

Ha!

I'm really a 54 year old man called Frank who gets off on all your smutty gaz messages.

Anyone want to hold my penis. Hmmmmmmmm
( girlinthehole, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 9:19, 11 replies)

I bought
a new Renault Laguna in 2003, believing reports that it would be a better car than my previous 1997 Mk I Laguna (which was mostly trouble free).

Nope.

No end of bother. 12 warranty claims in 60000 miles. I've now done nearly 94000 miles and I'm waiting for it to explode.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 9:01, 7 replies)

A Warning
A message has come round our work from our sports and social club -

"Tickets are available for the hilarious French and Saunders live show, don't miss it, would also make a great Christmas present."

Club members £25 each, non members £30 each."

Don't worry people, I'm calling trades descriptions for using the words 'hilarious' and 'great present' - I just didn't want anyone to get conned in the meantime.

Length? I'd prefer to sit through a whole summer season of Cannon and Ball.
(RickGrimes Quite frankly, disappointed on, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 8:52, 1 reply)

Manchester
Another crafty hobo story I'm afraid, but one a bit different. Walking back through Rusholme in the afternoon, you're quite likely to see an Asian woman with a pushchair and cradling a baby. She'll stop you and give the usual sob story about having to feed a baby and so on, but the story is rendered useless by the blatant fact that the 'baby' is infact a cuddly lion, wrapped in rags as a disguise.
( mr_wicksy is.... old., Fri 19 Oct 2007, 8:44, 4 replies)

watchdog special
Car went bang. Colleague at work told tale of place near heathrow that does nice refurbished engines with a decent guarantee.

I find place, get "reasonable" quote, and arrange for them to have car. Go off to Belgium for stag weekend all happy that car is being fixed.

Come back, find this site

heathrowengines.blogspot.com/ and start fearing for my pocket.

Quote magically jumps to 1600 quid (car's worth 500 tops). Pay for stopped job where they put disassembled engine in boot at a grand cost of 300 quid.

I then give them the car to "scrap", which probably won't happen, but as long as it's no longer my problem, i'll be happy.

Buy new car instead and take the 300 quid out of pocket as a stupidity tax.
( bluemeat has been best of all the animals since, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 8:36, 2 replies)

2 Fellas in romford
Theres these two blokes in Romford. Both ofthem complete fuck tards but i have more respect for the latter.
One of ems a white fella who comes round telling people hes just had a massive row with his bird and needs a pound to get home. He done this every day to every table in the pub. Once he done it 3 days in a row so i said to him "Look fella u asked me yesterday and the day before, you need to get yourself a new girlfriend." And promtly he left.

The other bloke how ever is a bit more of a legend. Hes black, has no hair apart from a perfectly shaved square on the back of his head. He'll go round asking you for a pound so he can get home, but he'll say to you; "look mate u couldnt spare a pound so i can get home can ya? I dont expect for you to give me it for nothing so ill show you something amazing." Then he would get down on his knees and do a head stand, sometimes he would spin, depending on how much he needed the money. Always got results tho.

Gotta love skag heads.
(rossydizzle, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 8:31, Reply)

I am partially blind in my left eye
So basically kids, the whole 'eat your carrots' thing is one big con.


....unless the other 'you'll go blind if you keep touching it' thing is true
(turtles head is touching cloth poked a dwarf on the forehead at, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 7:40, 1 reply)

Camden Town in the 90's
... was not the place to be turfed off a tube train late at night. It had once been trendy, but ever since every talentless indie twonk in Christendom had gravitated to the place in the hope of being noticed, it had turned into a complete shit-pit.

So there I am on Camden High Street and it's like being in a Freak Brothers cartoon, every second person is 'Spare change? Spare change? Spare 20p for a cup of tea? I've lost my travelcard and can't get home... I've lost my wallet and can't get home. I've lost someone else's wallet and can't get home. My ship's been clamped and I need the tube fare to get back to Planet Zog.', etc. etc.

So when this raddled old Irish bag lady shuffles up waving an empty can of 9% and says 'Excuse me love, do ye think ye can spare me £1.30 for another one of these?' I was only too happy to oblige, and told her to enjoy.
(><(((">, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 7:37, 1 reply)

I am so fucking guillible
you have to understand all my family have um, quirks. I'm loud, one of my brothers is a Cliffie*, another one does a very credible Charles Manson imitation, and so on. My brother in the Army, Greg, doesn't suffer fools gladly and would cut assholes off with "I know you're lying" even when he was 14 or 15 years old.

The day Saddam Hussein was captured, my brother Sam called up all excited and said, "Oh my god, Tam, did you hear? I think Greg captured Saddam!"

"What? How do you know?"

"It was Greg's unit that was looking for him, the 597th, and they said on TV that it was the MPs that found the spider hole."

A chill went down my back. I holler at the kids, "Uncle Greg caught Saddam!" Everybody runs in and jumps on the bed (it's early in the morning) yelling and asking questions, my husband wants to know just what the hell is going on, who did what with Saddam Who, etc.

I finally shush everyone and ask Sam what else he knows.

"Well, I heard on TV that when the MPs found him, he tried to pretend he was just some old man they didn't know, and the Staff Sgt MP said, and get this-'I KNOW YOU'RE LYING'"

I scream at the top of my lungs, "Greg caught Saddam! Greg caught Saddam!" The kids start yelling and dancing around, I'm crying, even my husband's saying, "Damn, I can't believe it." I breathlessly tell Sam I have to hang up and tell everyone in the neighborhood that MY very own brother captured Saddam Hussein, the Evil Dictator, blah, blah, blah when Sam shouts through my babbling, "Tam, Tam , TAM! Shut up. Calm down. I'm pulling your leg."

I could have fucking killed him. I was so excited and he just ruined it. So now the whole family** will throw in "and I captured Saddam, too" just to yank my chain, the fuckers.

Although Greg did get a huge kick out of it when he heard. He actually called me all the way from Iraq to "set me straight". Dicktard.







*Do you have those in Britain? Somebody who always is spouting off authoritatively about subjects he doesn't know shit about? Named after Cliff Clavin on the TV show Cheers.



**even my mother
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 6:02, 3 replies)

Another tale of alcoholic begger wreckage
Me and the same flatmate from the train saga below were having a night out in Liverpool. As you may have gathered from our inability to shake off a lonely old man who wanted nothing more than to hang out with us in the wee small hours, we're both total cowards, and hate the idea of confrontation or upsetting people. This was the reason we spent almost an hour in the surprisingly roomy gents toilets in the basement bar of an irish pub whose name I've forgotten, for fear of the woman upstairs in the main bar who was sat by the door waiting to speak to us again because she thought we were going to give her her 'bus fare home'.
The more I think about it, I've got tons of stories like this. It's all because I'm too nice to shake them off. I won't post any more though.
(DrBurkstrom, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 4:25, Reply)

I was on my way to the train station in Melbourne one fine day...
and was approached by a little old lady, looked like someones grandma.. As I was pulling out my packet of cigarettes she approached..

"Hallo Love, Can I have a smoke?" - butter couldn't melt in her mouth.

I looked at this little old grandma, and suddenly the fury of having been asked for cigarettes by random entitled losers came to a head within me.

"No" I calmly replied, lit my cigarette and put the near full packet back into my handbag.

"What??!!" This harpy screeched! "You Nasty Little BITCH!"

Someone's dear little Grandma was clearly off her meds

I gave her my most practised look of derision and flicked my barely dragged upon cigarette into the gutter beside her.

"You're a nasty girl and you have a fat arse!" She shrieked into my casually retreating back.

Upon hearing this, I turned mid walk. "Maybe you should quit smoking and use the extra pension money to buy a razor for your mustache you f*cking obese cunt"

She was shocked into silence and my victory over the sweet old grandmother was won.

I refuse to be conned into giving smokes to little old ladies who are crazy assholes in disguise.
(Sammyj, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 4:09, 7 replies)

Conned out of a night's sleep
One of my former flatmates in Newcastle hailed from sunny Wigan, and regularly used to get a train that leaves Newcastle for Manchester Airport at about 2 in the morning, his arguments in favour of this seemingly daft idea were that it saved wasting a day mucking about with trains and you were guaranteed a seat.

Anyway, on one of these occasions we were up drinking before he went to the station and I decided to wander down with him. At the station a drunk old man attached himself to us. He never asked for any money or anything, despite seemingly having none himself, but he wouldn't go away. As the train prepared to leave I realised that there was a very real risk this guy would follow me home. In my slightly tipsy state I decided the best course of action would be to hop on the train, off at Durham, and get a train back. (Train back at 2.30am? errr) Rather than follow me home, our new best friend followed me onto the train. The ticket man on this train never comes round before Durham cos it's full of posh, pissed Durham students so the old man got kicked off at Darlington and I had to pay for a ticket to York to avoid him.

At York (4am) it became apparent the first train back to the north was at half 6, so I had a lovely pitch dark walk round York during which I saw NOBODY, at all, not even a milkman or a cop van.

Got back to York station for my 6:30am train and guess who's there?

He must have had even more fun than I did hanging around Darlo all night till he could jump a train to York where we'd given the impression we'd meet him. I had to stop him from shoplifting a mars bar and some porn from WH Smiths and when we got on the train he started chatting up some poor business woman who was on her way up to Glasgow for a meeting. He got kicked off at Darlington again for not having a ticket or any money, and I answered the Glasgow-bound lass and her dumbstruck colleague's questioning looks by telling this story.

I got back home half an hour before I was meant to have a lecture, thought 'Fuck it' and went to bed.

The sad thing is I don't think he was a conman or a begger or anything, just a rather strange old man with no need for sleep and apparently nothing to do.
(DrBurkstrom, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 4:07, Reply)

The worst poetry in the world
I was walking around Swansea town centre one day. I was unemployed at that point, so I was aimlessly wandering between shops to kill time, knowing that I couldn't really afford to buy anything. Of course, if you appear to be directionless and vague in your intentions, you'll get approached by a charity campaigner or a market researcher or suchlike. I seem to be a magnet for them, anyway, and I assume that's why.

Anyway, I don't really mind talking to such people if I'm not in a rush, and I'm certainly polite to them. Manners don't cost anything, and they must have tedious working days! A young man approached me, and I was glad to be asked for a one-off donation rather than a direct-debit type contribution.

"Would you be interested in buying one of our poetry books? Our charity buys new wheelchairs for disabled children!" was the jist of the patter, after the usual charm had been laid on. The 'book' he was holding appeared to be about ten glossy A5 pieces of paper folded in half and stapled.

"Yes, of course!" I said, and looked in my wallet for change, expecting to give about £1.50.

"That's £4. Don't worry, I can change a £5 note!" he suggested helpfully.

I dubiously handed over the surprisingly large amount, thinking that at least I was assisting a worthwhile cause. I walked off a little way and had a look at the booklet. I wasn't expecting anything special, but the verses inside really were...*drivel*! I dearly wish I'd have kept it now so I could give an example. To make it worse, the 'poems' clearly weren't written by any children supported by the charity because the language and spelling used was obviously American.

It doesn't matter, the money still goes to charity. Well, this is why I felt conned - the information given on the last page stated how my contribution had been beneficial because it kept the seller in a job and off benefits provided by the taxpayer. I can't remember the name of this 'charity' but it then stated how it did buy wheelchairs and suchlike for children when it *could*, or when it was *asked*, or when some miraculously became available, or something. Essentially, it seemed fairly unlikely that it ever actually happened. I suppose they were truthful in order to escape troubles incurred by projecting an out-and-out lie as to their purpose, but...yes, I'm an idiot! I'm sure the seller was in a position where he could have got a legitimate job; he certainly wasn't homeless.

It made me cross, but probably mostly because I felt stupid. I think that was the reason I threw the booklet away so I wouldn't have to explain my embarrassment to anyone who might see it. Really I suppose I should have written a letter of complaint, or whatever...or perhaps I really did help someone somehow, but probably just a pushy charmer without a good cause, or some sort of boss in charge of a scam. Great.

P.S. If you thought this post was a bit rubbish, you should have seen the poetry! I think one of the works of art was simply a list of the contents of a packed lunch.
(Ovaltina, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 3:36, Reply)

On the train.
If you have ever had the joy of riding the NYC subway, you sometimes come across some of the most interesting individuals. Many spin a tale of woe, trying to get you to let loose some change. Normally I don’t, however sometimes it gets me so mad, I do cause a scene.

One rainy afternoon, heading home, a fine gent comes into the car and says - "I'm homeless, I have no place to go, I need to eat, I have a kid I have to support" same old tired story.

I look at him and for someone who was homeless, his pants were crisp from being pressed, his sneakers were $150 Nikes and he looked remarkably clean and neat.

Now the transit authority, has posters up, saying don’t give handouts no matter how real or believably real a story may or may not be. So I call him on it.

I say “For someone who is homeless and all you are doing well”.

“What?” he says

“well you are wearing brand new sneakers that go for about $150, and your clothes are clean and all. I don’t think you are homeless, I think you are being a bum.”

“No way man, not me”

Well says I, if you were that hard up, why would you spend $150 on a pair of shoes, and not buy something like food.

Now several other people, including a couple who had some money in their hands, also start looking. This guy stammers and says, um, like my friend gave them to me.

Right….

So the guy bolts off the next station

A woman who was sitting next to me says – you know I have never looked at the shoes. So every time someone asks for some change, I usually look at their shoes first and their general appearance.
(Subway Riding the rails underground, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 2:13, 1 reply)

Oh dear...
I am such a easy con when I've had a few bevoirs...

After a few beers and until I hit the 10 pint stage I am everyones best mate... and no I'm not 17 and experiencing beer for the first time....

therefore countless beggers have wandered off pockets full with my hard earned dollar... the worst was a guy that used to wait for me to finish work... every fucking tuesday he must have lay in wait.. now thats dedication to grifting (he fairgame out grifted us)

When I was actually 17/18 I was conned... Directly - hustler style.

bloke in a relativly nice BMW pulls over and asks me a few questions... I can't recal the details but it was along the lines of wheres a nice area in the town etc etc...

Being the polite young man that I am I told him... he said he wanted to show me something as I seemed a cool guy, and asked me to cross the road and he'd pull up -

Now I thought this made me super special of course... but in retrospect it was to duck out of the way of a CCTV camera... arse...

anyway up the side road he pulls out a briefcase with a load of necklaces... they looked nice, they were classic womens necklaces in gold and silver... ahem...

He spins me a story that hes jsut finished a conferance, and has to get rid of these pieces for silly money...

would I like first pick... I thought wow...

I choose, he asked me how much money I had... I had nothing on me...
so he walked me to the cash point!!! and I withdrew 40 or 50 quid for him
thinknig I had a bargain I had a huge smirk on my face... how I must have looked a muppet to him...

anyway...

he hands over the exact item I selected (they must have all been equally shite)unless he palmed and swapped... and I went away... having given him the last of my weeks wages.

an hour later, I'm home, I hand my mum what I bought her, and said this is for you.. my dad looks...

mum smiles says thankyou... obviously thinking I'd just found something from a cracker...

I later asked dad what he thought... well... you make your own conclusions as to what it really was made of... I think its now green... if it still exists...

that guy pisses me off when I recount the story!!!

quick one - significantly more money.. but meh -

met strange bloke who really is hustle type character... end up in casino
I dont know how to play on casinos - I like to go.. I'm just pants... so 20 quid is my limit... he gets 300 out of me... supposidly he's to match it... he doesnt... we win 1400 quid... we split it... nearly... we leave the casino on my insistance... we go for drinks with girls... I get drunk... we go back to casino... I give him my winnings... I go to bar... I never see him again!!! although he did call the next day.. which I thought was nice!!! lol
(feedingtimeatthezoo day 1 of his bikini diet started, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 1:59, Reply)

Would like some advice...
Here's the situation - a few months ago, I started renting a room in a house. The previous occupant left sharpish, after finding a place much closer to his work. When I arrived, there was a fully fitted internet connection. Trying it out, I was delighted to find it still connected, and decided to squeeze as much use out of it as possible, before the line was cut off.

That was 3 months ago, and it's still active. Haven't heard a peep from the company (Virgin) or the previous occupant. Only problem is, my live-in landlord is getting very nervous about it. He seems to think that if Virgin find out, they could take me to court and have a black mark put on the houses' credit file. It doesn't help that it's on one of their highest packages, about £60 a month if anyone was paying.

Personally, I'm all for leaving it and seeing what happens. If Virgin do find out, I would be perfectly willing to pay any outstanding amount. Of course, the contract isn't in my name, which may create a sticky legal situation.

My landlord claims to have spoken to one of his mates, who is a big-shot lawyer. He apparently said that I could be charged with theft, and that Virgin could easily prove their case. However, I am sceptical - I've caught him lying before, and I suspect he's simply made this up to add credence to his point of view.

So, I'm asking for any B3tans with any legal or technical knowledge to give me a bit of advice. What should I do? Is it safe to leave it and see what happens, or should I 'fess up and get it cancelled? Or is there some third option?

I await your responses with baited breath...
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 1:58, 10 replies)

I went to Tunisia
... for a whole week.

Trust me, you've never been conned until you've been to "The Jewel of North Africa".

Fuckers.
(UXB you said it man. Nobody fucks with the Jesus, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 1:45, Reply)

This reminds me of the homeless bloke in Blackpool, where I live
who last year asked me for a couple of quid so he could get some valium.

Honest beggars. Gotta love them.

I gave him my last quid.
(Multi-Coloured Pop Shop "twat with a ukulele", Fri 19 Oct 2007, 1:20, Reply)

I love the nonsense stories some of them come out with
A couple of years back, myself and a friend were confronted in the street by a vagrant and his dog, who claimed to be stranded in town with no money and in desperate need to get back to his home. We gave him a couple of quid and bid him good luck.

In total I have come across him three times since (including less than a week after our first meeting) and he's always spun the same tale. Either he's still not got the money together or he keeps forgetting to buy return tickets when he gets the train.

My favourite though was one man who seemed to be trying to combine as many begger con-lies as possible, approaching a group of us with the following;

"Hi mates can you help me I've got to go up there to get my car [points at side road] cos its getting towed but if I do go up there I'm gonna get arrested and I need to ring my mate to let him know where I am but I aint got any money so have any of you got a cigarette?"*

After a short pause while we mentally inserted punctuation we informed him that none of us smoked, which he refused to believe. Eventually as we were walking off he pointed at one of my friends and insisted, in words that still makes me chuckle,

"I know you smoke, you've got yellow round your mouth!"

*Spoken without pause in an attempt to hide the fact that his story made absolutely no sense.
(Uncle Comrade, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 1:15, Reply)

I don't tell no lies...
I'm always being approached by people going "I need 50p for a bus ticket..." and all that. One man who really sticks in my mind came dancing up to us with a garden umbrella. He had no teeth and looked like he'd been sleeping rough. He also had those "smiley" scars people get in prison. If he hadn't had the umbrella and been swirling it around like a parasol, I might have just ran. He looked a bit nasty.

I was impressed. He told us "Me mate 'ere is always saying I tells lies. I don't tell no lies. This is the honest truth. I've been in prison for robbery. I've just got out and I've stolen this umbrella from someone's garden. I don't have any money right now. All I want is a packet of fags and a couple of beers. Can yer spare any change?"

Didn't have very much on us but we did manage to put a couple of quid together.
(ladyintheradiator, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 0:40, 2 replies)

I've got one
I was invited to respond to a QOTW about whether I'd been 'conned', mere months after a QOTW asked whether I had been 'ripped off'.

Ironically, I didn't have an answer to either question until I noticed the scam they're trying to pull. So that showed them. I think.
(silencer, Fri 19 Oct 2007, 0:00, 1 reply)

pea from earlier qotw
not me but a friend

was leaving Best Buy and spotted an attractive young lady eying him down in the parking lot. She came over and started up a conversation, my gullible buddy was very delighted at acquiring her attention. Then her rather large and scary "boyfriend" shows up and she asks him if he would like to buy some speakers. He says doesn't have enough money in which she suggest he can go to the ATM. Before he can refuse, she's in his passenger seat and they're off to the ATM with her rather large accomplice following in a creepy white van.

50 bucks for a set of speakers he never uses. Doesn't even have the right kind of stereo. Never even hooked them up. Any one ever heard of London Audio?

He's a rather sensitive fellow so we never made fun of him to his face. aren't we sweet.
( Krog3r has acquired some deceant lurkage, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 23:57, 1 reply)

Regular as Clockwork
Without fail I get conned every month. I slave my guts out and some fucking wanker dips his slimy little hand into my wage packet and steals a huge wad for himself. Do we ever see it again? Do we fuck! Its given to unruly foreign arseholes who decide that our social security system is better than working in eastern europe.

I hope the tide comes in and knocks a few more off!!

Oh, and while I'm at it. I bought 1000 fags in Dubai a few months back - guess how much? $54 or about £27 or about £0.54 per pack. And that includes a profit for the airport, the producers and overheads for flying the death sticks out in the first place. Did I feel guilty walking them back through customs at Heathrow. Did I bollocks.

Up the revolution brothers and sisters!
(Suck it and Sea, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 23:45, Reply)

i stand on your right side
and tap your left shoulder.

it never fails to work.

Click "I Like This" if you want to punch twunts like me in the face.
(kimini touches your shoulder gently on, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 23:27, 3 replies)

Well and Truly
A few nights ago I was out with the boys for a few bevvies.

After the usual sinking of 10 plus pints, WKD and Mudchutes later we were strolling off to the nearest kebab shop when one of my mates plonks a trafic cone on my head. Tosser.

I was well and truly conned!!!
(Suck it and Sea, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 23:25, 2 replies)

THIS IS NOT A CON
Dear sir,

I am a rich Nigerian Prince, who due to corrupt evil government, as frozen all my familys bank accounts except mine. Luckily before this they transferred all thier money to me. Now we are escaping to UK we need to transfr muney.

We need soemone we can trust and after our lawyers cross-reference 2000 people in your country we found you to be most suitable and trustwurthy.

Wwe need to transfer £20,000,000,000,000,000 UK Sterling dollars to your account and after thinking about this we have decided to let you keep 15%.

All we will need is your Bank name, account number, sort code, name, address, nationalyity, age, hair colour, favorite food, age you started puberty and your best fantasy shag.

THIS IS NOT A CON. I promise.

Yours Sincerley,
Lots of Love,
Still not a scam,
please give us your details,
Prince Pu-Pu Nahemaputalochatetapalalon III

(p.s. we won't steal from you, honest!)
(Checkinguponmeagain?, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 23:13, 2 replies)

I was conned by an old man in a cloak
Yeah it turned out those were the droids I was looking for.
( abefroman skating on the thin life of modern life on, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 22:33, 3 replies)

I wasn't conned out of money...
although I did fall for a story that a paramedic told me about how they'd been called out to deal with an electrocution, but when they got there they found a workman with two broken arms. When they asked what had happened, they were told that the workman had been digging in a trench and got some dirt in his boots, so he got out of the trench and was leaning against an electrical pylon shaking his legs to get the dirt out of his boots when a co-worker noticed him and thought that he was being electrocuted so picked up a spade and smacked him across the arms to break the electrical currant and smashing both of his arms.
Apparently its a common con by paramedics. And I fell for it. Gits!
(libbyloo <insert cool quote and pretend I came up with it>, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 22:31, Reply)

Ooooh, whilst I remember!
Big cons in Bristol at the moment. The crims? The Homeless. The victim? The innocent cider drinker.

How to spot the con.

If you see someone sitting by cashpoint holding a sign that says, 'Parents kidnapped by Ninja's, need money for kung-fu lessons' be very warned indeed. That's VERY WARNED.

I have it on good authority - although I can't reveal my source for obvious reasons - that these people are pretending and that they will probably spend the money you give them NOT on kung-fu as they suggest, but more likely drugs and white cider.

Trusting my source as I do. (Alright, he's called Wizard and sells the big issue outside the Tesco Metro and we had a serious debate about it the other night - against my will I add), I'm still not sure, not least because the bloke who sits by the RBS cashpoint speaks in a dialect I don't understand. It sounds a bit like a drunken mumble, but it might be kung-fu talk.

Be careful out there kids.

Mullered.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 22:25, 1 reply)