I am drowning. Unsolicited catalogues are jamming the letter box, the flood is turning into a tsunami and soon I will be submerged unless I take evasive action.
Who are these crazy firms thinking they can con me into spending money on something I don't want? Do I need an inflatable bath seat? Single socks in different colours? Xmas-themed toilet roll holders? Or perhaps my hot water bottle is yearning for a cashmere cover. Since I don't have one, I will never know.
I am fed up with this dross. This gross effort to make us spend, spend, spend. My recycling bin overfloweth. Is there a minister of Dreadful Waste I could write to? And should I sign it Disgusted of Muswell Hill?
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