When Dave Cormack finished tightening the nuts under the sink, he emerged at the feet of Samantha, taking in the view as he rose until his diminutive frame left his eyes level with her bosom. ‘That’s a pretty negligee,’ he said, ‘and a Yorkshire elbow and two hoses, call it thirty quid love.’
As Mr Cormack later revealed when he appeared as a special invitee before the Select Committee for Financial Jiggery-pokery, it was in situations like the one he’d just described when the small business man was most vulnerable. ‘She was waiting for a new cheque book,’ he told the meeting, ‘and didn’t have the cash’, then he glazed over as he re-lived the events which followed.
‘I’m sure we might find another way I can pay you,’ Samantha had said in a soft alluring voice through pouty lips while rubbing her thigh against his spanner. ‘That’s when we got down to it, hard, on the kitchen table,’ continued Cormack, ‘to try to iron out some sort of staged payment plan. We ruled out setting up a Direct Debit because it wasn’t worth all the bureaucracy of finding sort codes and account numbers. I calculated that if the debt was spread over 90 days, that would be something like £2.50 a week, which I thought was a reasonable offer; but the lady insisted my approach was naive and there was yet another way, something she called a contra account, and that’s when I realised my knowledge of financial transaction methodology was extremely limited.’
The committee chairman said he was keen to establish the extent and nature of ‘service swapsies’ and requested to know the outcome in Mr Cormack’s case. ‘I’m well-satisfied,’ said Cormack, ‘she seemed so clued-up on business economics and finance, I persuaded her to do my next VAT return for me and look into my pension rights. Oh, and I got a shag out of it, n’all.’