From: "Peter Hucker" 
Newsgroups: uk.finance uk.legal
Subject: Re: Credit Cards/Chip and Pin/ATM withdrawls
Date: Sun, 08 Jan 2006 22:56:14 -0000

On Sun, 08 Jan 2006 20:12:44 -0000, Tim  wrote:

>> >> "Tim" wrote:
>> >> > Not necessarily.  Why do you think that everyone
>> >> > who knows me must be either a friend or an enemy?
>> >>
>> > "Peter Hucker" wrote
>> >> Well do you like them or not?
>> >
>> "Tim" wrote:
>> > I know my postman & he knows me.
>> > But I don't know him well enough to be able to
>> > decide whether I "like" him or not.  I wouldn't count
>> > him as a friend, and I wouldn't count him as an enemy.
>> >
>> > There are many other people that could recognise
>> > me, but I wouldn't say were either friends or enemies.
>>
> "Peter Hucker" wrote
>> Bugger.  Still a very small risk.
>
> That's all it takes!

Yeah right.  There's also a very small risk that your house will get hit by a thermonuclear weapon.  How's your bunker?

>> >> "Tim" wrote:
>> >> > Tee hee.  [Nope!]
>> >>
>> > "Peter Hucker" wrote
>> >> Where else is 15 miles from a post box?
>> >
>> "Tim" wrote:
>> > Certainly not my place - there's a
>> > postbox right outside on the street!
>>
> "Peter Hucker" wrote
>> ARGH!  I read your "but nowadays a 15 mile walk
>> home is just a bit too much" to mean from the postbox.
>>
>> "Tim" wrote:
>> > If you meant that I'm "...more likely to be hit by
>> > a bus walking home..." from the postbox, that's
>> > hardly likely as no buses go down our road!
>> >
>> > But if I did post it here, the postman is
>> > quite likely to know it came from me -
>> > less than a dozen houses use that postbox...
>>
> "Peter Hucker" wrote
>> That's odd.  Are there huge numbers of
>> postboxes about, or are you in a remote area?
>
> Just the one, for our small collection of houses.
> "In the country!"

Bastard.

-- 
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Everyone farts, admit it or not.  Kings fart, queens fart.
Edward Lear, the 19th century English landscape painter, wrote affectionately of a favorite Duchess who gave enormous dinner parties attended by the cream of society.
One night she let out a ripper and quick as a flash she turned her gaze to her stoic butler, standing, as always, behind her.
"Hawkins!" she cried, "Stop that!"
"Certainly, your Grace", he replied with unhurried dignity,
"Which way did it go?"