Not that I'm suggesting anyone dust off the plans for the final act of Project mayhem, but banks and lending institutions should be blown up by the minions of Tyler Durden and..oh.
I'll start again. I was denied a credit card by Virgin. Repeatedly. And they won't tell me why I didn't meet their 'selection criteria' because that would obviously allow the green eyed zombies to rise from the earth and destroy civilisation one squirming schoolgirl at a time.
Blood. Panty shot. Heaving young breast. Blood. Random splintered bone. Panty shot.
You get the idea.
Obviously I have no wish for this to happen as Lord Mattress Hammer quite likes school girls, and they eventually occassionally become totally kick-arse women who rock and write snarly beats tracks or become a SuicideGril, and there can never be enough of them.
So I gave up my manly pleading over the phone to the woman on the other end and embraced my fate of sticking with ANZ.
My only ray of hope is the "should your circumstances change, please reapply". I note that this comes after the bit about finding some undeclared income or asset - as if someone might have casually forgotten that they work 16 hours a week at Seven-Eleven or own a Mazda MX5. How hopeful can you get?
So I'm thinking of how my circumstances could change quickly and effectively enough for me to get the credit card.
I'm becoming a woman.
Everyone knows that the absence of Y chromosomes magically makes everything cost 50% or more for no reason at all. Women simply NEED credit cards to survive in such a world.
And as part of the sisterhood I can share the other benefits of being a woman. Y'know like... oh... um...
Anyone want to buy a lot of drugs? I pretty sure that counts.