Friday, 23 May 2008

Some Bastard Stole My Purse

While I'm up, I may as well write about the Bastard Who Stole My Purse (or wallet, as Rachie insisted on calling it) yesterday. Yes. I don't care about the money, but I lost my debit card, driving licence, my NUS card and most heartbrakingly, my Boots card!!! It had a billion points on it! So sad! But yes, I was pickpocketed. Or bag-pocketed. In the one minute my bag was open while leaving stupid primark and going to stupid new look, the Robbing Bastard stole my Mambo purse. But let that be a warning to everyone, even londoners, be careful! It doesn't only happen in Charles Dickens!

Another Robbing Bastard.

Close your bags! So if any of you spy my purse around central london, maybe discarded in a bin, because Mr. Bastard was disgusted with the solitary £5 that it contained, please, bring it back to me. And if, by some miracle, Mr. Bastard is reading this: A plague on your house. I hope you contract an STD of some kind. Maybe Shyphillus. I hear that's deadly.

xoxo