I phoned Sky Television yesterday.

I don’t often phone them and had forgotten that they have a rather messy menu system on their phone.

I was asked if I was a new customer, an existing customer, an old customer returning to the fold or someone who was just moving house.  I told them I was an existing customer.

I was then given a bewildering array of options, none of which seemed to fit my purposes, so I pressed 7 for ‘other’.  That brought me back to the start again.

I pressed a few numbers at random and ended up talking to a rather tasty sounding girl.  She asked me the usual questions, such as my name, address, what I had for breakfast, what I thought of the G20 talks, and eventually she asked me what I wanted.

I said I wanted to complain about the utter shite on all the channels.  I said that out of all the five hundred or so channels I had available, there was nothing worth while watching on any of them. 

‘You are not happy with the content of the channels?’ she asked.

‘That’s it,’ I said.  ‘They are all crap.’

‘But we only supply the channels.  The broadcasters provide the content.  You would need to complain to them.’

‘No,’ I said.  ‘They are the manufacturers, and you are the supplier, and under the Sale of Goods Act it is the supplier who is responsible.’

She thought about this for a moment and suggested that I subscribe to the Sports Package.

‘I hate sports,’ I said.

There was a long pause.

Eventually she spoke.  ‘You hate sports?’

‘Yup,’ I replied.  ‘Football is the worst but any sport is a complete waste of time.’

‘That is the fist time in my life that I have ever heard a man say that.  Could you repeat it?’

‘I fucking hate sport,’ I said obligingly.

For some reason, she went off into a fit of giggles and it was about two minutes before she could speak again.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ says she.  ‘I never thought I would hear that.  You are unique.’

She got that bit right.