Avatar My Four Pounds

I bought a thing off eBay for a Christmas present. It cost me some money, plus £4 post and packaging. That’s reasonable enough. I paid the money and entered my work address for delivery so that it wouldn’t be sent back if I was out.

What I didn’t expect – what nobody expected – was that it turned up at work the next day. The next day. In the morning. No postman is that fast. No courier couries that quickly. No delivery man deliveries so rapidly.

It turns out that the seller’s girlfriend works in the same building as me, on the fourth floor. The day after I’d bought the thing, he put it in an envelope and gave it to her. She brought it in and, first thing in the morning, handed it to my colleague. The packaging cost him a fraction of £4 and the postage cost him the square root of nen.

So naturally, of course, my Christmas is ruined. The spirit of Christmas is charity and giving, and this shyster’s used his unfair advantage to wangle me out of £4 for a service that was not required. The spirit of Christmas is dead. My festive joy and cheer have been used up. I’ve torn my decorations down and burnt my Christmas cards. I dumped the tree out of the window onto the roof of a passing van. I put my fist through the TV screen when the John Lewis advert came on. If Santa shows up at my place I’ll give him a thick ear.

The moral of this story? Don’t buy things off eBay. It will indirectly cause your landlord to charge you for repainting the smoke-stained ceiling.

24 comments on “My Four Pounds

  • Could the four quid have paid for her to get to work to deliver your mystery item?

  • It might have but I’m damned if my hard-earned monwahs are paying for some woman to commute in to her job from Swindlers Parkway.

  • What about if she walked to work yet donated the money to a worthy cause on the way? Would that be sufficient?

  • What if the £4 meant that they were able to eat that night, all thier money having been used up paying for the nursing home their aging but beloved cat was confined to?

  • And so it comes full circle, like a dish of mini cheddars.

  • Of course, but only if the snacks are rotundular. If they’re not then I will have to kick the fuck off.

  • I don’t suppose the new year has brought any further insight or inner peace to you regarding your four hundred pennies?

  • Don’t encourage him Ian.

    I really want some hula hoops. Hula hoop craving right here.

  • I thought perhaps he might have had a change of heart, Miss Wolfson, but clearly the man is a maniac and needs to partake in the pill of chillage.

    Hula hoops are available from most corner shops and recommended retailers #imhelping

  • I might have to face my fear of society to go buy hula hoops.

    It’s knowing that there are people out there like Christopher, who roam our streets freely, that gives me such a fear of society.

  • Just make sure you never borrow four pounds from him. It might tip him over the edge.

    I would recommend the BBQ Beef flavour as it always hits the spot and unlike other meat-flavoured crisps does not stay on your breath for the following 72 hours.

  • Oh Christ no!
    Ready Salted.
    Only ever the Original flavour. Although I always struggled to understand why plain crisps are called “original” because really, when it comes down to it, they’re not very original are they?

  • *aghast* :O

    You reject my BBQ beef?! By the beard of Zeus!

    (I suppose in the original press conference for the plain crisps they were looking to make them appear more snazzy so they used a classic description to ensure maximum effect… in other words I’m not sure).

  • All men of judgement and wisdom reject the BBQ Beef hula hoop for the deplorable crime against humanity that it is.

  • BBQ Beef Hula Hoops are an abomination. Salt is the only flavouring those majestic hoops require.

  • Sheesh. I didn’t realise everyone was crisp Stalins on here. Jeez…

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