My best use of a credit card, my wife will be glad to know, is not to accommodate a slush fund but rather to jimmy open doors, a skill I learnt at university. Sliding a student card down a door frame would, after several attempts and a couple of shoulder barges, click open the lock to grant access to a putrid dorm room where a tardy (read: hungover) occupant — hopelessly late for the soccer/cricket/ tennis match — was slumbering. Of course, clever students soon learnt that sticking a drawing pin into the door frame just above the lock stuffed up the breaking-in procedure.

In any event, my locksmith skills famously uncovered a dangerous kit laundering scheme involving a never-to-be patented semi-automatic washing machine. Hacker (not his real name, but true to his nature), our illustrious res soccer team captain (who honestly would have not been out of place in the defensive line for the early 1970s Leeds United XI), would regularly miss the laundry drop for our soccer kit. Unp...

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