Earlier this morning I heard an enthusiastic knocking at the door. “Who is it?” I shouted, rubbing my engorged nostrils eagerly, in anticipation of an exciting visitor.
“It’s someone you know” came the cheery reply.
“Really?” I shouted cleverly “I don’t recognise the voice. Where are you from?”
“It’s someone from work” The voice reassured me. So I bestrode my hallway like a Collossus, went to the front door and opened it -to be confronted by a complete stranger, wearing a shiny elbowed suit and an unconvincing pair of plastic specs with plastic nose and moustache attached..
“Who the fuck are you?” I asked, starting to get a bit annoyed *“I dont’ know you!”
The stranger looked shiftily around him and then jammed his foot in the door
“It’s regarding that telephone call we had yesterday” he breezed
“What fucking telephone call?” I snarled “I’ve never seen you before in my life!”<
The stranger glanced nervously around him once more.
“Dyspeptic somnambulant flowering cheesecake..” he suddenly blurted, sweating profusely.
“Dyspep… what?!” I asked in growing confusion *“Is there something wrong with you? What the hell are you on about?”
“OK. Sorry!..” shrugged the stranger, eyes darting from side to side ”…Just trying to throw the spamcops off the scent. I’m really here to offer you some Vagora”
“Vagora?… What the fuck’s Vagora… and who the fuck are you?” I yelled, the vein in my temple throbbing rythmically.
“You know…” the stranger winked “V1gara!”
“Vee One Gara?… “ I echoed “Have you got Tourette’s or something. Do you even speak English?”
“Vi@gra!” leered the stranger, winking furiously - “Make her cum!”
“Vye at Gra?” I looked at him in bewilderment “Make who come… from where?
“Vogara!” leered the stranger, his eyelid flapping like a castanet.
“Oh!” I suddenly thought aloud “Are you trying to say ‘Viagra?’”
“No!” he screeched looking round him in alarm… “Er… Yes..” he continued, in a low voice, drool beginning to drip from the corner of his mouth. “Well…?”
“Well, what..?” I asked wearily
“Do you want some?”
“Not really” I replied, adopting what I hoped was the confident mien of a man with something larger than a chipolatta hanging between his legs “Anyway, where is it?” I asked “You don’t seem to be carrying anything”
“Well, I haven’t got any on me at the minute” replied the stranger making a show of patting his pockets “But if you’ll just give me your credit card details, I’ll post you some out in the next day or two”
So, dear reader - what happened next? Did i…
- 1: Tell the sleazy stranger to fuck off and never darken my door again?
- 2: Give my credit card details to some complete unknown who’d turned up uninvited on my doorstep and had then lied about who he was, lied about where he was from and lied about what he wanted to talk to me about?