Wednesday, 17th June 2015
I may be unashamed of talking to myself – indulging in what the academics call private speech, ‘self‐talk emitted out loud by adults when alone’ – but I refuse outright to talk down the phone to the incorrigibly mishearkening robots that are increasingly charged with manning the automated menus at call centres.
‘Tell me the third character of your password.’
‘F.’
‘S for Sierra. Is that right?’
‘No.’
‘No? Then tell me again, what is the third character of your password?’
‘F.’
‘S for Sierra. Is that right?’
‘No, F! F for eff you, eff me, what the eff?, and for eff’s sake, eff off and eff yourself you eff-witted effhole!
Oh, fuck it.