Mrs Price-Nation?

7.45am Saturday morning. Me in 'puked on' dressing gown, having been up since 5am with vomiting daughter. I look dog rough.

'Ding Dong'

"Hello" says very official looking man, dressed in black with clip board "blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, DFS"

"--------" thinks me "------------------------------------------------------------"

"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, DFS" says man

"--------" thinks me "------------------------------------------------------------"

"Mrs Price-Nation?" says now worried looking man

"Yes?"

"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, DFS" says man

"--------" thinks me "------------------------------------------------------------"

"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, SOFA" says man

"-------" thinks me "----sofa?, DFS?, must be a Balif come to repossess the children because I haven't paid for the sofa------ what sofa? we don't have a sofa because DFS haven't bloody delivered it yet?------- DFS?-------SOFA?????---------"
"Bloody hell, why didn't you say? come on in Mr Nice Deliveryman"