Originally Posted by willk
Had a lorry advertised a couple of years back. A Scottish semi-literate buffoon started messaging me. I ignored the first half a dozen messages as his English was so bad, I genuinely thought that it was an eastern European scammer. Rab C eventually got shirty, so I replied. The upshot being, he Paypal'd me a decent deposit. Weeks went by, the truck's MOT and tax were sliding away, no word from Rab. On messaging him, I was getting a constant stream of woeful tales, motorbike accident, beaten-up. Eventually I told him that I was going to trouser the depo and re-advertise the wagon if he didn't show in a week.
He messages back, collect me from Newquay airport on Friday. I rocks up as arranged, to spot Rab C's scruffier looking bro stood outside of arrivals.
Off we go to Chez Mollers, conversation was impossible as I couldn't understand a word that he came out with.
On a scant inspection of the truck he hands me a wad of mickey mouse money (Scottish notes) large enough to choke a donkey. Having never seen jock folding before in my life, I was far from convinced that it was any good. Rab jumps in the cab, he has no clue re. tachos/driver hours/operators license, he's only concerned about fuel. So I give him directions starting with, " out of the drive and TURN LEFT", I repeat as It's not sinking in. F'k it! I jumped in the L200 and headed for the bank at a lick, I reckoned if it was moody money, I could chase after him and grab the twat before he got too far. Into bank, the money was good.
I drove home happy and steady, as I swing into our place, Rab is coming towards me from the village direction (out of our's and RIGHT). I later heard that he'd jammed the village right up, trying to turn the thing around at school pick up time.