When the above bank note was nestling in my pocket last night it was a tenner. When I walked in the pub, ordered my drink and proffered the note it was still a tenner. However, when the barman got his grubby little hands on it, it miraculously took on a new dimension: it was counterfeit. Fake. Moody, if you will. So how did that happen then? One minute you're extracting legal tender from a hole in the wall; next thing you know you've got a dirty big hole in your wallet where money once resided.