It was nice and warm in the house yesterday.
I was sitting in my favourite armchair which is very comfortable. I had had a rough night and so I was feeling a little sleepy. All was quiet in the house, so I got myself into a nice cosy position and shut my eyes.
I had just dozed off when the phone rang.
“Hello” said a horribly cheerful voice. “Is that Grandad?”
I admitted that it was.
“I’m ringing from Cork”
“That’s nice” says I. I didn’t know they had phones in Cork. Maybe he was the first person to get one and he was trying it out.
“I’m sure you’ll be very interested in a special offer from ‘Talk Talk’, where you can save lots of money on your phone calls.”
I had been a sleeping Grandad. In approximately one picosecond I became an hormonal Gordon Ramsey on steroids.
“Did you f*cking wake me with one of your f*cking special offers?” I roared.
There was a long pause.
“It’s a very special offer” he said, slightly more timidly.
“I don’t f*cking care if it the offer of a f*cking lifetime. I hate cold calls” I shouted.
Another long pause.
“Would you like me to tell you what the offer is?” he said hopefully.
“I would like to tell you to stick your f*cking offer up your f*cking *rse” I said.
“You would save a lot of money?”
I had to hand it to the little b*ll*x – he had staying power.
“Listen” I said. “You have cold called me. You woke me up. You have cr*p ads on television. You have a stupid company name. I don’t want to hear your f*cking special offers. Now rev up and F*CK OFF.”
“You are not interested then?”
“Listen, you little sh*t. Stick your f*cking offer where the sun don’t shine. I don’t even have a phone.”
That last bit stumped him. I don’t think he’d heard that line of argument before. He hung up.
I have set my computer to auto dial.
It is going to phone the Director of Talk Talk every fifteen minutes starting at three in the morning. It won’t hang up. It will offer him a special offer of a lifetimes supply of pig manure.