Can you even conceive dear reader of someone so monumentally stupid that he could address a cashpoint machine, slide in his card, tap out his PIN, order £100, retrieve and trouser said card, and then stride away intent on collecting his offspring from school, leaving the hundred uncollected, limp and flaccid in the slot whence it issued?
I am afraid to say that you are reading words typed by just such a ninny. Someone is going to have a good weekend at my expense, I guess.
Oh well, as Zarathustra spake "that which does not kill me, makes me stronger"?
If anyone needs me I may be found playing piano in the office with my elbows and singing madly.