There are three things you need to know about cursed objects:

1. They're cursed: bad things happen to the people they target
2. They're high-quality: no one would be lured in by a cursed mirror unless it was also a nice mirror
3. They tend to have quite specific targets: this necklace chokes unfaithful wives, this axe injures woodsmen who cut sacred trees, etc.

What I'm saying is, if you know that a particular cursed object doesn't target you specifically, then what you've really got is a very cheap, very high quality item.

So that's what I do. I have a flat that is much, much better furnished than I should be able to afford on a bartender's salary. I have a full matching (cursed) set of crockery, velvet (cursed) drapes, and an opulent, gilt-edged armchair that is both over-stuffed and absolutely lethal to anyone who likes jazz. Personally, I'm an EDM guy.

I spend my weekends antiquing, looking for any items with a missing or mysterious history. Anything that's sold a little cheaply, by a dark-eyed man with a pointy beard. Anything that got sold the week before to a hobbyist, but that's now part of an estate sale. If you know what you're looking for, cursed objects are everywhere.

Of course, finding them is just the first step. The next step is a lot - a lot - of research. You need to be absolutely certain that it won't target you. Benny - that's the guy who got me into this game - lived like a king for years, and then died the same day he got his final item: a silver pair of scissors.

The scissors themselves were fine - they stabbed frenchwomen who whistled, and that wasn't a good description of Benny. The plastic bag they were sold in though? Smothered litterers. Cursed items tend to clump together, and it's a good idea to investigate every little bit.

Once I've investigated though, once I've found an available item that's not a danger to me, then I'm good to go. £200 for a shoe rack that breaks the ankles of people in riding boots? Bargain. £50 for a set of crystal glasses that shatter opera singers? A steal. I live the life Riley wishes he could (literally - I own a nutcracker that wishes to do the obvious to anyone named Riley).

One downside - a minor thing. 'Ownership' is a loose concept to cursed objects. Often 'being nearby' is enough to trigger them. So just like I carefully research my furniture, I have to research my friends as well. Can't invite Emily over, her dad's a fisherman. Game night with Toby can work, but only if we play the modern version of Cluedo, and keep the old one weighed down with (very heavy) books. My dad - plays the saxophone - hasn't visited in years.

No one is infallible. Sometimes, just like Benny, I make a mistake. Not, so far, with as personally-dire consequences as him, but I've had my share of upsets. Had to give statements to the police once or twice - no idea how it happened, officer. Had to bury a body a time or two, when it was too hard to explain.

And that brings us to today. To arriving home after work to discover my flat half-cleaned and my new cleaner half-eaten by my (sinfully soft) four-poster bed. I wouldn't have thought that Ms. Pettigrew (mid 30s) was a virgin princess of the Romanian blood royal, and I can't imagine she was aware either. Every day is a learning day.

Tonight will not be an early night. I have a lot of cleaning-up to do, and now only the severed arm of a cleaner to help out. Still, it's a small price to pay. It is an extremely comfortable bed.