SPD IMARJANCI

Listen to this one then; you open a company called the Arse Tickler's
♥♥♥♥♥♥ Fan Club. You take an advert in the back page of some gay mag,
advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos, sell it a bit with, er
. . . I dunno, `does what no other dildo can do until now', latest and
greatest in sexual technology. Guaranteed results or money back, all
that bollocks. These dills cost twenty-five each; a snip for all the
pleasure they are going to give the recipients. They send a cheque to
the company name, nothing offensive, er, Bobbie's Bits or something,
for twenty-five. You put these in the bank for two weeks and let them
clear. Now this is the clever bit. Then you send back the cheques for
twenty-five pounds from the real company name, Arse Tickler's ♥♥♥♥♥♥
Fan Club, saying sorry, we couldn't get the supply from America, they
have sold out. Now you see how many of the people cash those cheques;
not a single soul, because who wants his bank manager to know he
tickles arses when he is not paying in cheques!