Frank Ababio
I'm fortunate enough that Mrs. Spoon (Hmm... I should have chosen a better name - poor Mrs. Spoon) has parents that own a house in the outskirts of London. For years they'd let it out to studetns at the nearby University, and they always kept their information.

Once the Uni started to shut down that campus, and tehy couldn't get any tennants, in move myself and Mrs. Spoon. After a couple of months we start getting letters addressed to Frank Ababio. All the other details are correct on the address so we check with her parents... No Frank Ababio has lived there while they've had the house, and that's 27 years.

After a few more months of these vaguely threatening letters, more post starts arriving for Frank Ababio, friendly yellow envelopes that look like birthday cards. I know it's illegal to open other people's mail, but by this point I'm getting curious about Frank... I open one. It's a bailiff saying they're going to come round and take stuff / break stuff unless Frank pays them x amount of money yesterday.

Not a problem thinks I, and ring them up. Yes, we've never heard of him, no, we don't have a forwardin address as he's never lived here and so on. Yet we still get the letters... So far I've counted eleven different bailiffs / outstanding debts for Mr. Ababio, who, again I remind you, has NEVER lived in this house.

Frank Ababio, you are a debt ridden, spendaholic cunt of the highest order and I hope the bailiffs find you one day (presumably in a palace made of gold, diamonds and third world children) and give you the kicking you so richly deserve.

If anyone knows the whereabouts of Frank Ababio, click 'I Like This'.

This is the first time I've had to appologise for it being too long...
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Fri 24 Nov 2006, 10:04, Reply)