So it seems as if my family have been reeled in by all of this free broadband malarkey offered by Carphone Warehouse through their Talk-Talk service. I’d be indifferent about it if it weren’t for the fact that I had the opportunity to ring BT to request a MAC code. How I fucking love ringing BT. I’ve inherited this all from my mother who loves hollering down the phone to the bastards!

Anywhooo, I gave them a call and I’m was put through to this eager sounding woman. I could tell she was fat. I think it was the shallowness of her breath. Anyway I asked for a MAC code. And she responded with a “Why?”. A good start. I knew fun and games were ahead. I had to restrain myself from screaming “Because yer fucking shite luv! ” down the phone at her but I wasn’t prepared to lower myself to such levels. I leave such tomfoolery to my mother.

I told her I just wanted to leave BT and asked again for a code. She put me on hold for 3 minutes. Then she asked me “Are you moving to Talk Talk?” and just to stir shit I replied with a resounding YES. What followed was a barrage of questions similar in structure and in content to the following “Do you realise Talk-Talk are shite? Do you realise that they shit on their customers from a great height sir? Do you know it costs 50p a minute to ring their legal team Sir?” “Do you realise that if you leave us now we will send around the boys to knock your cunt in?”

I took such delight in responding yes to every question. I wasn’t listening at all. She could have been telling me that Talk-Talk will start sending me live uncorked alligators through the post each and every month and I would not have cared. I was feeding off her exasperation. She knew I was a lost cause and I was rubbing it in.

Cut to a few days later……..

Tonight we were sitting down for our tea and the phone rings. My mother picks up. Its BT and by the sounds of it, it’s the same woman as before, with the same list of questions. I was surprised that the old-girl kept her cool. She just told them “Look luv, I’m not interested, I’m at my fucking spuds and I’m watching Midsommer Murders re-runs. Now leave me in peace” and down went the phone.

Several minutes later the telephone starts again. It’s BT again. This time it’s a nervous sounding man with a slight country accent. It seems that BT are playing silly buggers with us as he is reading off the same list that the other girl was. I know whats gonna happen next as I can see my mothers face turn purple. She stands there, clenching both her jaw and fists waiting for her moment to pounce like a big-fucking-tiger.

And it comes “Yer girl was only on the phone 2 fucking minutes ago! What do you mean what Girl? That fucking BT girl with the same fucking questions. Aye. I’m not answering any more, ye fucking wanker”. At this point the young man stops and whispers a meek “Pardon?” and my ma retalliates with a “You fucking heard me. Bye” before slamming down the phone.

I do hope they ring again. I do fear for the next poor bastard though.