BanksYour Ginger Fuhrer froths, "I hate my bank. Not because of debt or anything but because I hate being sold to - possibly pathologically so - and everytime I speak to them they try and sell me services. Gold cards, isas, insurance, you know the crap. It drives me insane. I ALREADY BANK WITH YOU. STOP IT. YOU MAKE ME FRIGHTED TO DO MY NORMAL BANKING. I'm angry even thinking about them."
So, tell us your banking stories of woe.
No doubt at least one of you has shagged in the vault, shat on a counter or thrown up in a cash machine. Or something
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chthonic, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:15)
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How G Robbed a BankOriginally posted for the Shoplifting question on 10.i.08
My erstwhile flatmate G, when a student, robbed a bank.
By this, I don't mean that he produced a gun and stole the money. He actually stole (a good part of) the bank.
One day, he was walking along the street when he noticed that the Alliance and Leicester was having a refit, part of which meant a new shopfront. Bits of shopfront were piled on the pavement. Later in the day, they were still there - apparently unguarded. I don't know whether they were bits of the old or new front. It really doesn't matter.
What does matter is that G, quite possibly a little worse for wear by this time of the day, had a brainwave. A brainwave that went somewhat along the lines of "I want that". A subsequent - and longer - brainwave went along the lines of "I am in a rugby team; Big George, the prop forward, would have to help me; I know Big George's phone number; and - Behold! - a phone box!"
Big George clearly thought that G's scheme was brilliant.
The result of all this was a living room full of "borrowed" bits of the Alliance and Leicester.
And that is how G robbed a bank.
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Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Wed 22 Jul 2009, 10:44,
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