Journalism

Metro 43

Richard Herring had some explaining to do after being a victim of bank fraud

Richard Herring reveals how a recent case of bank fraud turned out to have unexpectedly embarrassing consequences.

I have been the victim of identity theft. I know what you’re thinking, ‘C’mon Rich, you’re too famous. No one could ever get away with pretending to be you.’ Well, somehow they managed to pull it off.

I checked my bank account the other night to find £513 was missing. I know what you’re thinking, ‘C’mon Rich, you’re too loaded to notice the loss of such a paltry sum.’ But I am afraid you have an inflated sense of my fame and wealth. Almost like you’re being sarcastic.

I did notice. Because that’s lots of money. Also the payment was to wonga.com, a company I would never use. Not because I think they’re horrible loan sharks, preying on the poor and desperate, like diabolic cash vultures (what kind of a monster would think that of such a morally impeccable firm?), just because I’d rather sell both my kidneys than give them custom.

I rang the bank and another similar payment to wonga was about to go through. Surely wonga.com wouldn’t allow a debt to be paid off by a card unconnected to the person loaning the cash? They’d do something to stop that, wouldn’t they? I’m not going to say that wonga don’t care where the money comes from as long as they get it, because there must be some other explanation. You have probably thought of it yourself, so no need for me to make a suggestion.

Luckily, as I was blameless, the bank immediately refunded me the dosh and also stopped two massive £4,000+ cheques that had been presented to them (from a cheque book stolen in the post). It left me feeling shaken and insecure. If these anonymous, cowards can get to me via cyberspace, what’s to stop them infiltrating my dreams? Think of the terrible crimes they could commit on that lawless plane. Keep an eye on your bank balance folks.

The woman at the bank made me go through all my recent purchases to check there were no more bogus ones. Embarrassingly my last legitimate purchase was a willy brush, which is pretty much what it sounds like. Let’s just say a fireman might use it to keep his helmet clean. And so might a vicar.

I had chanced across the website for this male hygiene device last week (it’s www.willybrush.com if you find yourself in need – it’s the perfect Christmas gift for any man you want to unsubtly inform has stinking genitalia).

I’d been amused by the website’s boast: ‘Our company believes that this revolutionary product will become as commonly used as other hygiene related toiletries, such as the toothbrush or hairbrush.’ I think that’s unlikely, though one day it might be as commonly used for cleaning penises as toothbrushes currently are.

I wanted to own one of these devices because I thought I might be able to work up a stand-up routine about it for my show Talking Cock (tickets on sale for the 2013 tour, the perfect Christmas gift for all men and women regardless of their personal cleanliness), in which I encourage men to wash their little fellas on (at least) a daily basis.

I don’t require a willy brush for any other reason. You could eat your dinner off mine (a chat-up line that has sadly never borne any fruit).

I couldn’t tell the woman at the bank any of this of course and there was an awkward air of silent judgment on the end of the line. Like I deserved to have my money stolen if that’s how I chose to spend it.

The nationwide tour of Richard Herring’s reworking of his hit show, Talking Cock: The Second Coming, resumes in February. www.richardherring.com