“Hi, I’m Credit Expert. Fuck you”

“Hello, I’m Credit Expert! Please, sit down. You big twat.

“So, let’s have a look. You want to buy a house, well I’m sure… oh, oh dear.

“Not on these pitiful wages! Really, what’s the matter with you? No collateral. I can’t see any car insurance payments here… nor any council tax. So, you live with you parents and wait in the rain for the bus every day on your way to your McJob.

“I see you’ve been buying a lot of pornography and have a monthly payment to Match.com – so you’re clearly not getting any, assuming you’re not a virgin. And, inevitably, you’re buying cat food on a regular basis, you sad fuck.

“Hmm, you do seem to eat out a lot, which explains why you’re so fat. Not a lot of money on soap or toothpaste in your outgoings though. I expect that’s why you stink.

“Having looked at your savings I’m afraid there’s very little chance of you ever owning your own house – and by your stage in life I’d expect to see a much higher salary.

“If I were to guess I’d say your career has stalled – not that it ever really got going – and you’ll never enjoy a greater standard of living than the one you currently do.

“Did I mention you’re probably a closeted homosexual by the way? That internal conflict is probably a big reason for the yawning chasm of despair at the heart of your soul – that and the fact that you have no career, romantic or equity prospects. And that you’re a grotesque and lonely human being.

“Hey, where are you going? We’re friends aren’t we? I’m your friendly Credit Expert! I’m sorry if I said something wrong…. you owe me £14.99!