A bailiff has been ringing my doorbell a lot lately. Probably looking for unpaid credit card debts, loans, that sort of thing. I dealt with this matter by cutting the wires that supply the bell.

This morning, however, he caught me leaving the flats:

“Are you Simon Cleary?”


After a little silence where I expected him to argue that I am who I am, he moved on, and went to the door to press the bell again. I headed out.

When I got to work, my ID card wouldn’t work in the barriers – I got a replacement from Reception that said VISITOR.

Later, I stood in front of my colleagues on the Board, and delivered a charismatic, polished and well-researched pitch. I sat down, leaned back in my chair and smiled, satisfied that my point had been made. I placed my hands together, paused, then flung them apart, asking:

“Any questions?”

After another little silence:

“Err… who are you?”

What’s Paul talking about? He knows that –

“I’m Si…”

Don’t tell them Simon! That’s how they get you!


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