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For Sale. A Bosch Strimmer.


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T’other day I was down on the Wye fishing for Barbel. As is always the case I’d mounted a Halibut pellet on a hair rig and employing my Shimano Barbel Vengeance rod and a two ounce quiver tip, I cast out waiting for this species to swim along and feast upon the bait and its size nine barbed hook.

For reasons unbeknown to me as I was sat there minding me own business hoping that promiscuous women wouldn’t emerge from the undergrowth and subsequently violate me because I’m the most desirable man in the world and generally speaking women can’t keep their hands off me, I glanced across to me left and found a pile of neatly folded clothes placed alongside a Bosch Strimmer. Atop of the clothes was a little handwritten note that read, ‘ Dear finder, you can keep the clothes and the Strimmer. I no longer have use of them. I’ve gone to a better place’.

Course, being on the Wye fishing for Barbel and living in the City of Hereford I honestly wracked my brains trying to work out where this better place was because, to my mind Hereford is as good as it gets. Anyways, if this fella has moved to another area and didn’t want his clothes or his Strimmer and he’s managed to find some place better than here in Hereford then more fool him I say. So I decided to do as he asked and take ownership of the Strimmer and try the clothes on.

Sadly, mostly because I’m a fat old bas.tar.d, the underpants, the vest, the trousers, shirt and jacket didn’t fit me so I discarded them, neatly folding them so that some other passing pilgrim could try the clothes on and decide whether or not they wanted to take advantage of this well meaning gift from the person who had found a better area to live in. Seemed to me to be the proper way to comply with the instructions relating to the tiny hand written note from this unknown person who didn’t want to keep his clothes or his Bosch 180 cordless Strimmer.

Anyways, to cut a long and tediously boring story very short, I kept the Strimmer and cleared off home. It was only when I returned to my abode did I suddenly realise I’ve no grass or foliage to Strim. Before taking ownership of the aforementioned property it completely escaped me that I lived at a property that had no grass because I lived on the fifth floor. I genuinely had forgotten that I and my property were completely lacking in the grass department and so I was now in possession of a Strimmer with no grass to do any strimming.

Me options suddenly became three. One keep the Strimmer and never use it. Two, lug the bloody heavy cumbersome thing back to the Wye and reunite it with the clothes and it’s little note or three, sell the bloody thing and get down the Commercial with the lads and enjoy my good fortune.

I went for option three. I popped an advert in the paper asking for twenty quid. From hereon, one could argue things went downhill. My view is things actually went uphill and if anyone on here wants to purchase this Strimmer then the following précis of my first encounter with a prospective buyer should act as a salutary warning to those who have grass, need a Strimmer and desperately want to acquire a device to cut grass.

He tipped up at my threshold, had a look at the Strimmer, noted I hadn’t got grass to Strim and offered me ten quid. It was at this initial point that I realised that he and I had entered into an exercise in haggling. Now, I know that haggling is traditionally a process whereby  two people, a buyer and a seller, enter into a little word of mouth game that eventually arrives at a place where one buys and the other sells. Thereafter, there’s an exchange in monies and property, in this case the bloody Strimmer, concluded with a shake of hands and a couple of fair thee wells.

I on the other hand chose a different approach. One designed to confuse him, literally ‘p’ him off and result in him regretting ever trying to haggle with me. Following his offer of ten quid, my selling offer shot up dramatically to thirty quid which left him in a state of bemused shock. He laughed mistakingly thinking I was a reasonable man and said, ‘ok. I’ll give you fifteen quid’. I laughed and offered to sell for thirty five quid. It was then that the buyer realised that going down or up in tens and fives wasn’t really helping and so he gave in and said, ‘ok. Twenty quid’

Now I could have then completed this transaction with relative ease. I could have but I didn’t. I explained that as a result of the haggling which he introduced, it wasn’t my decision, the price of the Strimmer had now shot up to forty quid which was actually twice the amount I had originally asked for. Quite simply I explained to him that around these here parts we haggle very differently and if he now chose to offer me thirty five quid I’d respond by asking for forty five quid. Indeed, the reality of it all meant that if he continued undercutting my asking price, as unreasonable as it was, I’d also go upwards rather than downwards. This fella, who clearly wanted and needed a Strimmer became fully aware  that if he went on like this he could end up paying me hundreds of pounds for a tool which he could easily have purchased for twenty quid.

Suffice it to say he left without purchasing the Strimmer cognisant that he’d wasted the best part of thirty minutes of his life trying to do business with me.

Now, to my original point. Does anyone on these here pages keen to avoid haggling want to purchase a Strimmer for twenty pounds?

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TwoWheels with or without an ‘e’. I see. Trying to be clever are we. Right, in keeping with the whole haggling codswallop where I react to another haggle, I’m pretty certain that if I’ve asked for twenty and you’ve offered forty, I now have to go down to zero if anything I’ve authored is to be believed.

The Strimmer is yours for zero pounds. Please don’t go downwards to twenty. If you do, not only do you get this lively strimming device for nothing but I’m also then obliged to give you twenty quid just so as we can complete this devilish fiscal transaction.

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