Description:

This is one of the songs that when you're under the influence you will mouth along the lyrics and pretend you know who it's by. 

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Oh, Mandy!
This is the story of a girl. Her name is Tammy. If you thought this was a story about Mandy - I am sorry to disappoint (terribly so).
But before we get to that story. We have to get to another one. It took place several years before the promised Tammy story. 
Cannon is important. Timelines, too. Time is money. Money is important. Therefore time is, too.

Only one of the the two is precious and finite. It gets quite confusing.  

There's also this boy. In his teens he started to work. And with his hard earned money he came upon a deal. Quite a good one. 
Some shipping fuck-up lead to a delivery surplus of some high quality speakers. The boy worked in shipping. He knew quite well these fuck-ups just happen. 
When he got home, and told the folks about his good fortune, the old man called him an idiot. It wasn't easy to accept that. 
The deal wasn't quite as a good as he thought. You could say, it was merely another fuck-up waiting to happen. So it did. 
The young boy went about his life. And probably learned something. I don't know what exactly, though.

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Now, back to Tammy. She's older than the boy. Probably smarter, too. He was an established idiot. There's no arguing that. Facts are facts. 

And truth is another matter. Tammy used to work, too. Smart and hard I'd imagine. It's hard to tell. 
A good deal came her way, too. These things happen a lot, don't they?  
It is not known at present what names she got called, other than idiot. By some idiot. Some older idiot. 
It stands to argue here, Tammy learnt something, too.

There's always someone, somewhere, throughout the ages, with a good heart, and a good deal to offer. The world's a happy place after all. 
An eye for an eye. A gram for a gram. Some thing's never change. Some thing's get old quick. 

Some of the Maggot's finest attribute's are style and panache. He's a bastard, too. Good deals incarnate. 
It should be a good thing his influence is limited. I'd counter you on that. 

It's hard to learn from someone else's mistakes. It's hard to believe someone's that stupid. Until you realise you are. 

The deal I'd gotten wasn't the worst. And I'd thought 'how can I be so lucky?'. It's called 'wrong place, wrong time'. 
It's called bad luck. It's called tough luck. Tough love. There's many other things you could call it. Go right ahead. Take your time - I know I would. 

I have been there. Got the bag for a tenner and a story for free. 
The bag's mine - the story is, well, you're reading - you should know how much you are paid to be here.

And how about that Tammy? How about her? 
Was she just unlucky, too? Maybe. Unfortunate for sure.

But it's difficult for anyone to say they were in the wrong place and at the wrong time, too, when they were specifically invited. Asked to be there. 
Wrong answers if you ask me. If you care for my comment. And the answer to that is no. 
It's nothing personal, baby. It's not your style. Nor your panache. It's business. 
It's good business for us. Bad business for you. 

Please can someone call you an idjit for that. 

Done. Dusted. 

I am not offering to sell you crap. Or suggesting you buy it. 

I don't want that kind of influence. 

Any crap you get from me is free. At your disposal. At your discretion. At your peril. 

Tammy lost her job. Just like me. 

It would be nice to know she can afford free crap nowadays. 

Even if it's paid for.