Lord Preserve Us From Amateurs.

More shit happenings; on Monday as I was passing out of the front door a man ostensibly working for NTL asked me whether I was already with NTL.
I told him I wasn't, and I told him who I am with.

"Do you know, do you have a static IP address ?"

Yeah, right. Why do you want to know sonny?
Talk about waving a red flag.

Anyway, ten minutes later in the car I see a similar youth in a phone box on Dewsbury Road, looking right at me as I come down the road.
Shouldn't he be talking to somebody?
On the phone?
I mean, that ploy is so old it just was bound to make me suspicious.

Anyway, I'm in a town South of Leeds today, driving my truck, and who do I see but Pinky, walking up the road, trying to cover his face.

Coincidence?
Yeah, right.

Maybe he was trying to finger me like the little Judas he is, so some 'chums' can give me trouble.

Well now that I've published, he'd be very, very stupid to proceed.
Suicidal in fact.
Sorry Pinky.
And no, I won't lump you one so that you can lose me my job.