Service Station con (no, not the pot of tea)
In common with many of you out there, I was once accosted by a chap in a motorway service station car park. Now, I had stopped for a nap, and was blearily staggering towards the bogs for a quick pee before getting on my way.

“Pssst, excuse me seeeenor” came a voice from a parked car, “do you a-speak Spanish?”
Groggily shaking my head, I found myself holding a lovely suede jacket, thrust into my hands by a vaguely dago-ish looking character.

He started his pitch – He was sorry about his poor English, he was on the way back from an exhibition, flying home to Spain, stock left over blah blah, and I stood there, gradually coming back to life, realising this “Spaniard” actually kept dropping into a Mancunian twang now and again.

He was on a roll because I’d not told him immediately to fuck off, and explained in broken English that he had several of these jackets in the boot, would I like them all for £350, rather than their retail value of £350 each?

Being a nice polite kind of chap I told him that was rather a lot of money, so sorry, no.

“How much ya got then mate, erm, m’sieur” asked Pedro, “I ‘ave to shift them all before I fly ‘ome, to-a Milan, make us an offer, like”

Realising Pedro was turning into Luigi, (via Manchester), and that I was being stitched up, I faced the arctic wind blasting across the car park which made my eyes water. Turning to face him I explained :

“Well, it’s like this mate, I’m skint, this fiver is all I have left to my name. My business has collapsed, the bailiffs repossessed my house this morning, my wife fucked off with my best mate, even the dog bit me. My bank sends me death threats and I’m actually on my way down to the Clifton Bridge to do some unattached bungee jumping. That nice shiny Jag you just saw me get out of belongs to my neighbour, who has been fucking my 16 year old daughter and has got her into making porn films for Arabs. Well, it did belong to him, he won't need it now, I gave him a good smack with an iron bar after I was evicted this morning, along with his wife.
Anyway, I really need to get going while I am still ahead of the posse that’s after me. Is that a police helicopter? Oh God, I have to go, I won’t let them take me alive. This jacket will be useful though, the one in the car is soaked in claret, fuck, I’ve never seen anyone’s brains before, have you? Here, take this fiver, God bless you. Sorry I haven’t got more, but at least you have one less jacket to get rid of. Look out for me on the news later wearing it. Shit, it’s them, I think they have seen me……”

Off into the service station I jogged, leaving a wide-eyed astonished Pedro/Luigi/Paul from Longsight sitting there staring at the fiver he had flogged a £350 jacket for to a murderer on the run.
Only for a few seconds though, as I reached the doors, I heard the car rev up and screech away.

Not bad really, considering I had expected him to sprint after me, drop the foreign rep façade and get his jacket back, whereupon I was going to expose his scam in a Roger Cook-stylee. (Incidentally, my Oscar-winning performance is obviously BS, apart from the death threats from the bank, they really can be quite blunt when I exceed my overdraft limit)

My Dad loooooves his suede jacket I thoughtfully got for his birthday. Yes Dad, you are right, it did cost a packet, but it’s my way of saying thanks for all the shit I’ve given you over the years.

Bingo, 2 cons in one day. Result!!!


Length? I’m breathing deeply and thinking about fishing love, I can go on like this all night.
(Rsoles, Wed 24 Oct 2007, 21:00, 2 replies)

...
Okay, I think we have a winner.

Start clicking, folks. This one is Best Of material.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 24 Oct 2007, 21:30, closed)

great response!
and you got a suede jacket out of it too! woohoo!


(even the dog bit you.....fanfuckingtastic.....)
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Thu 25 Oct 2007, 0:35, closed)