He couldn't afford the scandalously high prices wherever he went in the high street so had to wait for the January sales in order to please his new charge.
A new, shiny phone and laptop and a whole bunch of new contacts appeared and he was like a boy in a toffee shop. "Hmm, toffee. Maybe better than broken toys?"
" Toffess aren't always mint though and might be dear."
Options were limited, though, despite being pleased with a seemingly blank cheque book at his disposal. What was needed was something to help cleaning the sheets. "Irons in the fire", he thought, " there's no greater gift than a returning son."
He lifted the phone and dialled the number. He enquired about the asset and the cost of it being transferred for a period. He was given a price. He bristled and counter offered. There was a deadline. A legal one. Not that that always matters.
The call returned, the deal agreed. No. I want a 25% discount. What? At this stage? Oh, go on, you cheeky devil. You are authorised to make this call by a responsible adult, aren't you?
Erm, yeah, YEAH, but I'll just check in any case.
"Hi honey, I've agreed the loan of.."
"Ram it, Woody"
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