30/12/2013 09:02 GMT | Updated 03/03/2014 05:59 GMT

Confessions of a Male Shopaholic

My name is Furquan and I'm a shopaholic.

Before you read any further. This is not a rom com. Isla Fisher did not run into my arms with my online order of the latest High Street fashions. Instead I'm sat alone surrounded by my sale purchases listening to a Spotify playlist that promises me that my mood will be lifted... any... moment... now.

No such luck.

When you grow up in a religious household, you remember certain moral lessons that quite frankly put the fear of God into you as a child. My mosque teacher told me that on the day of judgement (a concept I didn't quite grasp as a 5 year old) all your worldly belongings will be counted. The more you have the less "good" you are. Back then all I had to my name was a Nintendo that I shared with my brother; Adnan. I wasn't worried.

Cut to present day and I'm utterly terrified. I have more stuff than space and I now refer to the floor as storage.

I don't know how it happened. I'm sure there's some pop psychology that will tell me that I'm rebelling as a second generation British Asian. Whilst my dad had about three kids by my age I have...a comprehensive collection of bow ties.

Take that Mum and Dad...

I have more money than sense and not a lot of money. Direct Debits and Standing Orders blindside me like a bad cold every month. I think in terms of spending rather than saving. Six quid a month for Netflix? You spend more in "Eat" on a daily basis. That's fine...sign up.

I used to work in a shop and over the years I'm certain I have given more money back to Sir Philip Green than I've earned from him. That's a bleak thought.

Every year Boxing Day comes around. The papers are full of people queuing. When I worked in retail I dreaded the day when hordes of people barged in for a bargain. When we all know you get the good stuff in further reductions. Post credit crunch retailers force us into a sale frenzy before Christmas Eve. You spend your Christmas money before you even get it.

"I got a problem with spending before I get it.

We all self conscious I'm just the first to admit it" Kanye West in "All Falls Down"

Don't take spending advice off Kanye West if you don't have money like Kanye West.

You have friends around who you who are stunned by how much you spend. You don't go shopping with those people. They make you feel bad and your Bank Statement does that already. Instead you share your latest purchases with the Enablers. My enabler is called Selina.

But even Selina's better with her money than I am. She tells me of a promised land where you can reap some money back from your old purchases. The mystical land of EBay.

There are two kinds of people in this world; those who sell things on EBay and those who don't. I've tried. Believe me I've tried but blimey do you get the most inane questions. Measurements of garments that you never knew were necessary.

Then there are credit cards. Credit cards are another thing that invoke my religious upbringing again. Interest is frowned upon in Islam. Let's just say it's one confession I can't bring myself to confess and that's nothing to do with religion just the crushing shame of my expenditure.

So you now have all these shiny possessions. Clothes that you never wear and never will. There's an app for everything. You have an outfit for each occasion. Not an outfit for each app. that's just weird. You hoard so much Channel 4 are knocking on your door.

There's no moralistic lesson for you to learn here as I'm still trying to teach myself. I know, I know; Family and friends are important.

You're juggling your finances and living on beans on toast. Praying for the next pay day. Incidentally the Most depressing day of the year when everyone is at the most skint is meant to be the 23rd January.

That's my birthday.

Is this destiny that I've fulfilled?

More importantly will that wash with my Bank manager?