Me, gullibe? Never
A few years back when I was living in Oxford I was working for Brookes University. On my way home from work one day while listening to my walkman, a guy approached me. He was making frantic gestures at me, so I pulled out my headphone and decided to grace him my full attention. He had apparently missed his lift home back to Reading and desperately needed £30 to get the train back. I question why I should give him the money when I may never se him again. He said he would be back in Oxford the next day to work again and would pay me back.

After much haggling I reluctently agreed to lend him the money but only if he let me keep his bag and his coat as security. So we went to local cash machine and I promptly gave him the money and a spot outside the university was our agreed meeting point for us to exchange bag and coat for cash.

The next day, the alloted time for exchange came and went, I hung around for a further 30 mins but to no avail.

So, now a bit pissed off and in possession of a bag and coat I did not want, I decided to riffle through the goody sack and see what else I had become owner of. In the main section beyond the rolled coat (sheepskin) there was nothing else, but opening up the outer compartment I found a syringe, tin foil and tissue with blood on. I decide that I had been well and truly had, so the bag, coat and paraphernalia went into storage in far corner of the loft of house I was renting. To this day I believe it still resides there.

As for the chap who borrowed the money, I hope you are rotting in some back alley with a needle in your arm and mangy dog licking you balls.
( Statler&Waldorf I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK., Wed 29 Nov 2006, 17:15, Reply)