On the telly I was a little unsettled by seeing the ease with which people can steal your identity from documents in your recycle bin. I decided I didn't want my identity getting any ideas of having a more fun life with someone else so it was time to buy a shredder. There seemed to be quite a range of shredders from every expensive to very cheap. Having no expertise in being able to tell the difference I went for cheap.
Once home and unpacked from all its packaging - which disappointingly was inappropriate to shred - it was the on the bench plugged in, eager to shred something. There it was, sitting there innocently by the box, the instructions. They were printed on paper just begging to be shredded. On one level it seemed wrong to shred the unread instructions as the first piece but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed so right.
There were instructions on the shredder anyway. There is a little line of pictures of what not to put through the shredder. There is a person with long hair dangling, there is tie, there is hand - all fair enough so far - then there is a baby and what looks like a bomb. I wonder if the sticker person was given a specific number of he had to include and that necessitated some lateral thinking.
It turns out shredding is quite addictive - maybe that should be warned about on the unit... or maybe it was in the instructions.
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