I go to visit my parents.

I haven’t lived at home since 1993, but I still enjoy going home every now and again. For the food and the relaxation. They often ask me how it’s going in the “City”, and I tell them I don’t live in the City. They’ll ask me how the world of Computers is, and I’ll explain I don’t work with Computers. It is fun being home.

During one of my recent visits my Mum was in the kitchen and there was a knock at the front door.

“Would you get that Angry dear?”

“Sure.”

I went to open the door and was greeted by a young man of about 25 with a clipboard and large bag of paper.

“Hi, I’m here from Kleeneze, I’ve come to pick up the catalogue and take any orders?”

“Mum, some guy is here from Kleeneze about some catalogue they gave you?” I shouted back towards the kitchen.

“Oh, I threw it out” replied my mother.

“She threw it out, sorry.”

“Oh, you’re not supposed to do that. They’re £1.25 to replace.”

I was considering paying the man myself, but decided that you are never to old to learn a bit of financial discipline, so I made my way to the kitchen rifle through my mothers purse.

“You should be more careful Mum, £1.25’s don’t grown on trees you know.” I said whilst opening her purse.

“I didn’t ask for the catalogue, they just post them through the door, it seems a little unfair I have to pay for it?”

And suddenly the realisation dawned on me. He was trying to rip off my Mum. This was very very bad for him.

“Hi, I have here your £1.25, but first I’m going to see the evidence of my Mum requesting your catalogue.”

“Well, it says on the back here that you should leave it out for us if you’re not going to be in. We need to collect them back.”

“I can read. I want to know where the evidence of my Mothers request for a £1.25 catalogue is”.

“It’s only £1.25 if you don’t return it.”

“She didn’t ask for it. You posted it through her door, and now you want to charge her for this unrequested junk mail. I believe the legal term for what you are doing is ‘extortion’. It carries a prison sentence you know.”

“So you’re not going to pay for it then?”

“No. I am not. And I would like to make clear that if you ‘deliver’ a catalogue here ever again I will personally shove it up into your anus. And I might even take it out of the cellophane first so that it chafes a bit.”

“Err, OK.”

And off into the night he went, probably to demand money with menaces from some other elder lady, the cheeky twat.

I went back into the kitchen to tell me Mum that I had defended her honour, and that the thieves from Kleeneze won’t be back, nosiree.

“Did you order some of that CarShine stuff? Your Dad says it brings the car up lovely.”

Honest to God, as each day passes I realise why homes for the elderly are so popular. Does anyone know if they will they take women in their late fifties?

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