(no subject)
Owing to my stupidity in being talked into getting a Dorothy Perkins credit card (oh the joys of adulthood) by a sales assistant (I shop there about once a year) I now get regular phone calls from men with northern accents explaining how if I pay out 20p per day my family will receive up to £200,000 if I die in a plane crash. ('Or £38,000 for something as little as the loss of a toe or finger.') I never know what to do when they ring as I am immediately sucked in by their northern charm and their quips about teenage pregnancy. More often than not it ends with me saying 'I don't think I'm in a financially-stable situation right now,' whilst thinking 'I only work for Betterware for fucks sake.'