Thursday, 12 February 2009


Horlicks, then bed, homological pronunciation notwithstanding.

Must confess to feeling a bit weary and a bit self satisfied after ranting at tossers in various call centres sprinkled nationally, for a large chunk of the evening. ( I lost the job btw...I make joke). Beginning with the B's in the form of Barclaycard, worked my way through the alphabet of letters (see what I did there?) stacked on my desk and surrounding area, i.e house.

I've given up alcohol... No shit, you sure?, not like you to verbalise your opinions to strangers trapped politely on the other end of the phone, attempting in vain, to defend the incompetence in the bigger picture known as their employer. Err, yes it is.

The operative from Direct Line (are they Bristol based?) sounded like Viki Pollard AND would not or could not pause for breath. Slick, Direct Line, slick, I couldn't wait to get off the phone!

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