Often real life sends itself up so that the satirist can simply report what happened and the job is done without the need for the usual tricks of the trade.
This is certainly true of what happened to me last week.
Without resorting to exaggeration, caricature, mockery, wit, incongruity or overstatement I will report the trail of events to you in an accurate and objective manner. Let's begin.
They say there's no such thing as a free lunch. If you're not in the corporate world, you're more likely to say nothing comes for free.
Well, last week I proved that can be wrong. Out of nowhere, as if from a magician's hat, came a $20 win in Bonus Bonds.
Let's backtrack a little. Last week I wrote some thoughts about modern banking prompted by the closure of Bonus Bonds and the need to do something with the funds I had "invested". Then came a lightbulb moment - I would put the accumulated funds under my mattress.
Sorry, only joking. In fact, I simply transferred the funds to another bank account where they can stay "on holiday" until I have a decent lightbulb moment.
I received a letter dated September 7 from Bonus Bonds. It said my funds had successfully been transferred from Bonus Bonds to the nominated bank account, as asked. Easy. Case closed. I was no longer a Bonus Bonds account holder.
Soon after came a windfall. Sorry, I realise that word could be seen as exaggeration or sarcasm so let's call it a windfallette.
A congratulatory letter from Bonus Bonds, dated September 13, informed me that I had won $20 in the last draw of the scheme. Naturally, I was not so much delighted as puzzled.
I phoned to tell them that this was impossible, citing the earlier letter as evidence. Naturally, for security reasons I had to tell them my special, secret pin which I did. Four times.
It wouldn't work so the speaker apologised profusely but, because she could not be sure it was me (even though I had correctly answered the security questions), she said I would have to go to the bank and discuss the matter with someone face-to-face.
I politely expressed my displeasure and drove to the bank with my two conflicting letters.
The bank was shut.
I went on a Wednesday and the sign on the door said it was only open on Tuesdays and Thursdays. As you can probably imagine, I uttered a monosyllabic word to the closed door.
Now that I have settled down, I've decided what to do.
If they want to claim back their $20, they can chase me. I've wasted enough of my time and frustration trying to do the right thing.
I have no idea where they have put the $20 prize because normally it was automatically reinvested in the same account – the one which no longer exists. If you see a $20 note floating past you, grab it and stick it under your mattress until you can alert me so I can alert the authorities.
No, on second thoughts, don't. I'd forgotten that I said I was going to do absolutely nothing. Perhaps, just hang on to it or buy yourself a drink.
On the day this happened I sent a long text to family members outlining the whole saga and the reply that came from a son is going to serve as my conclusion. Even though it contains a solid dose of (inherited) Drabble irony, I think I'm free to use that tool now because the accurate reporting is done.
His text reply read, "Just as well you don't have other things to do!"
• Wyn Drabble is a teacher of English, a writer, musician and public speaker.