Dear Diary,

I went sofa shopping this afternoon. I only wanted a small two seater one, nothing too fancy, because, as you know, I live alone, because, as you also know, people hate me. The salesman was a nice young man, very stylishly dressed, but also Scottish. He insisted I bought the biggest and deepest sofa he had, which was also the most expensive. I explained that it was out of my price range, but he said

"You've got to see this as an investment. A sofa is a money making machine. What happens when you sit on a sofa? Money falls inside it. Pull back the cushions and you will find nothing less than money It scientific fact. And who will the money belong to? You, of course, it's your sofa, check the laws. The bigger and deeper the sofa, the more money will fall into it. It's common sense. You've got to see a sofa as a net, the bigger the net the more money you'll catch."

"Like a hammock?" I asked.

"No" he said "Nothing like a hammock. A hammock would not retain any money. A hammock is a terrible investment."

Eventually he talked me round and I said I'd take the biggest sofa, but luckily my credit card was declined. I did make love to him in the backroom before I left though.

Charlotte, Leeds.

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