Fiddling the books

Would I ever do a bunk with great wodges of cash? No. Why? Because I couldn't be bothered. Too much hassle. I'd rather be poor than guilty.

So I didn't appreciate the call I got on Thursday afternoon. Right in the middle of dealing with the possibility of the bastard being under my feet for another whole day the phone rang and it was the Paper Shuffler in Chief wanting basically to know if I could explain a cash shortfall of £500 or thereabouts. Now, I've already made clear that I'd not nick great wodges of cash because of the effort and stress involved. But £500? That amount of money wouldn't get me on an airplane going somewhere useful like Brazil or the Coasta del Crime or where ever it is that chavy fools who've dipped into the petty cash are supposed to flee to. It would take most of that in taxi fares to get me to the nearest international airport.

So No, Dear. It isn't me. Since I didn't close the banking with a shortfall it is probably you, or possibly the person who was doing the accounting the previous evening not adding up properly. Try taking off your socks if you can't work the calculator properly.