Deals on Wheels

I'm not sure what happened.

I could have sworn I only went in there to replace a flat tyre. Instead, my wallet is £150 lighter. Excuse the toilet-mouthed language, but I FUCKING HATE KWIK FIT!!!

The knuckle-dragging degenerate hummed. He hawed. He scratchedd his greasy head. He growled: "You're gonna have to replace four of yer tyres mates."

Firstly, I'm not "yer mate." In fact, should we ever be stranded on a desert island together, a la Lost, you would be Sawyer to my Jack. (actually, I'd be more like that wee Hobbit fella but I digress). Not under any circumstances could we ever be regardedd as 'friends'.

Secondly, I wouldn't trust your opinion about whether the sky is blue, never mind about the state of my tyres.

Thirdly, what the hell do I know. "OK, fair enough, go ahead," I said meekly.

I may as well have walked in there, pulled my jeans down, turned around and screamed: "Go for it big boy, do your worst!" Because, metaphorically at least, that's what they've done.

I've been well and truly shafted.