They had had the usual conversation about 'driving' their credit cards; Nick as usual hadn't taken his for much of a spin; it had pitiful acceleration and terrible suspension. It was the Trabant of credit cards. Wayne, now that he was making the big time, had traded up to a sporty convertible little Amex which was cornering very nicely and last weekend he had taken it into the Giorgio Armani store, put the top down, and floored the accelerator while he felt the credit-rush whistle deliciously through his thick, layered hair. Ysenda, however, had pranged her little Visa horribly in Harvey Nichols on Friday, and suffered multiple credit abrasions and unpleasant phone calls when she crashed through her spending limit and her driver-side airbag failed to inflate.