23 June 2011
The plot, if there ever was one, thickens. Remember when I got wheelclamped? Well, I said I was going to appeal and, via a close friend's strongly-worded letter (he's a solicitor, and I'm paying him in a couple of rounds of ale in the new football season), we've now discovered that the clamping firm in question is "no longer at this address."
We were suspicious from the start because the receipt that the clampette gave me in Manchester contained a mere P.O. Box as a postal address, but nonetheless we requested my £150 back and, for ages, nowt.
Fortunately, we're not giving up. The manager of the bar knew the clampette personally and as a consequence we know her name. Through her we'll find her boss. And we'll get my money back.