"Trust me, I’m just trying to sell you a credit card"..

Strolling into the foyer of ‘Chez spoon de greasie’ – a motorway service station straddling the M62 today, I notice some young bit of tottie is starting to eyeball me.

Well that’s nice! There’s no doubt about it aitch, you’ve still bloody well got it son. I look straight into her dark, smouldering eyes and as if caught in a Blofeld tractor beam, I reel her in.

I’ve clicked!

Errr, correction – no I haven’t.

She’s got a clip-board with her.

It dawns on me, I’m not the spider, I’m the fly…. I’m not the one with the white cat on his lap – she is…..

She’s got me. Shit!!!!

"Hello Sir, have you ever thought of having a credit card that will help the National Trust?"

"Errr, no I hadn’t ever thought of having a National Trust card"

"Well now’s your chance – and you can gain free entry to all En-Tee’s property"…

I’m completely underwhelmed. I’m desperately trying to find an exit strategy where I can leave with my money in my pocket and she will still be in possession of most of her gobby teeth.

"Sorry, I’ve no money….
"My wife will kill me….
"I’ve got enough credit cards thanks"….

All this is happening at a trot – I just cannot shake her off.

It’s no good, nothing is working. Nothing, nothing at all (as ‘Bros’ once said). Even the rapidly advancing rancid smell of ‘meato-rendo corp’ – or ‘Burger King’ as it more usually known as, is not putting her off.

Then it hit me – the sure fire no holds barred get out clause of all get out clauses.

"You know, it’s the ‘National’ Trust…. Well what ‘Nation’ are we talking about?"

"The whole of the UK"

"The whole of the UK, eh"
"But not Scotland, because they’ve got their own organisation, the National Trust for Scotland, haven’t they?"

She agreed.

"So is ‘The National Trust’ a trust for the nation of England then?"

She looked in her little bag of National Trust bumf. "Hmmmmm, no. Apparently, The National Trust also includes Wales and Northern Ireland"……

"Okkkaaaaaaaay, so it’s an organisation of 3 Nations then?"

Before she could think of a suitably P.C. answer, I noticed a map showing the offices of the National Trust around the 3 countries on her leaflet.

"Ooooh, let’s have a look at that then". The map had Scotland shown as Scotland, Wales shown as Wales, Northern Ireland shown as Northern Ireland.

As for England? Chopped up into Regional slices obviously - under the cosy title of ‘National Trust Regional Offices in England’.
Wales and Northern Ireland have their own National Trust Offices – under the titles of ‘National Trust Office for Wales’ and ‘National Trust Office for N.I.’

"It’s just not right is it missus? My Country just isn’t there is it?"

"Oh yes it is – the National Trust is all of the UK… except Scotland"

Good bloody grief is this woman taking the piss or what?…. The credit agreement in my hand began to fail under the rapidly tightening grip of my hand. Soon it’s a little ball of wood fibre, then it’s a little missile heading for the basket called ‘bin’.

Michael Jordan, eat your heart out…..

"So don’t you want to sign up to the card then Sir?"…….