Whilst resting in the local pizzeria the other evening I was accosted by a charming young waitress carrying a compact and yet elegantly designed artifact. “Garcon”, says I, for I have been known to speak London with an astonishingly accurate accent, “Garcon, que’est que heck is this thing, pray tell?” “Oh sir”, maid-of-honour like, she replies, as one does when addressing one’s elders in polite society nowadays, ‘Tis a Dione Xplorer Bluetooth Credit Card Payment Terminal. An’ it’s ever so nice, beggin’ your pardon.” What…
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