He remained immovable on my sofa for quite some time, relating to me his history as a promising soccer player before injury put a stop to his ambitions. He was at pains to impress me with tales of his family's great wealth and connections, although I noted that he showed up in a dented Volkswagen.
He complimented me on my 'sexy accent' and appeared to be implying that I should go out on a date with him as a thank-you for leaving his palace and travelling out to my hovel in the 'burbs to give me my money. Speaking of which, he had not sufficient cash with him to pay back the entire 15k. My resistance was low by this time, it was getting late and being mistrustful and suspicious is quite draining. Abdul finally departed, leaving me with a cheque and grave misgivings.
On presenting the cheque at the bank this morning I discovered that even with my laughably-named Platinum account it will take SEVEN WORKING DAYS to clear, if indeed it ever does. Gah!
No more dealings with the Underworld.
Thanks to Darryll for introducing me to the enchanting term 'Rubber Gregory' - cockney rhyming slang for a bouncing cheque. (Gregory Peck = cheque)
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