Listen to this one: You open a company called the Arse Tickler's Faggots Fan Club. You take out an advert in the back page of some gay mag, advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos, you sell it with, I dunno, "does what no other dildo can do until now", "the latest and greatest in sexual technology", "guaranteed results or your money back", all that bollocks. Now these dils cost twenty-five quid a pop - that's a snip for the amount of pleasure they're gonna give the recipients. But they send their cheques to the other company name, nothing offensive, er, Bobbie's Bits or something, for twenty-five quid. You take that twenty-five quid, you stick it in the bank until it clears. Now this is the smart bit - you send back the cheque for twenty-five pound from the other company name, "Arse Tickler's Faggots Fan Club", saying we're sorry, we couldn't get the supplies from America because they ran out of stock. Now you see how many people cash that cheque - not a single soul, because who wants their bank manager to know they tickle arse when they're not paying cheques?