"My father never tires of talking about the bed he once bought at Ikea. After renting a lorry and driving the bed to his flat on the outskirts of London - inching down the M25 in gridlock traffic - he could not get the box spring up the apartment stairs, try as he might. In the foulest mood imaginable, he loaded the bed back into the truck and drove back to the store. My father claims he spent, in total, twenty-four hours in the store. I pity the fool at Returns who had to encounter that wrath." [Read complete item here.]