My Ronnie Corbett Story (minus any funny bits)

So I went to the bank...

I went to the bank to pay in the cheque the insurance company had finally sent me in compensation for my written-off car. Getting that money has been a long and drawn-out process involving many phone calls of the "what's going on?" variety. I do hope I get the chance to score this company on their customer service at some point down the line because I'll happily rip them a new one. They were constantly telling me "you'll get a call tomorrow" but no call was ever forthcoming. After chasing them for a week to find out when the car was going to be valued ("mañana") I finally got someone to tell me, last Thursday, that the valuation would be in by the "end of the day".

"So you'll call me either this afternoon or tomorrow morning to tell me how much you'll be offering me?"

"No. We'll be calling you next Tuesday."

"TUESDAY? Why TUESDAY!?"

"Because that's when it's been diarised by the computer."

"OK, what if I call you back in the morning?"

"Oh, if you call us, we'll be able to tell you then. But if you don't call us, expect a call on Tuesday."

Unsurprisingly, then, I was ready for a fight when I actually got the quote. Yet it turned out to be more than I'd expected. They actually offered me the old car's market value (minus my excess), which, coincidentally, was exactly what I'd paid for my new car. I snapped their hands off because I was sick of dealing with them. Which was probably their plan all along.

Anyway, I went to the bank with my cheque. The bank is just across the road from the university where I have my teacher training lessons. Not the college where I do my placement... which is proving an eye-opening experience, I can tell you. If you ever want to feel old... talk to a class of young adults. Last week, the subject of Princess Diana's funeral came up. "What do you remember about that?" I asked them. "We don't," they replied. It was only at this point that I did a rough calculation and worked out... most of them weren't even born.

But I told the producer I wouldn't digress so much in telling this story, so let's get back to the bank where I took my insurance cheque. There's one woman in front of me in the queue and as she approaches the counter to make a payment of her own, she's pounced upon by an overzealous bank employee who wants to talk to her about her account.

"If you could just spare me a few moments, I think I can get you on a much better account."

"Well, I can't really... I've only ten minutes left on the parking meter."

"It won't take any longer than that."

She squirmed, made more excuses, but the vulture wouldn't let her alone. Finally she relented and agreed to follow him back to his desk for the hard sell. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least while he was tied up with her, I could make my payment and escape before he had chance to get his claws into me. And so I did...

I arrived at the university about ten minutes early for my lesson, so I joined a group of my fellow trainees in the coffee shop. I sat down for a chat and Americano... and that's when my phone started ringing. "I better turn that off before the lesson," I thought, but even though I didn't recognise the caller's number, I took the chance of answering it.

"Mr. Hirst? This is Bob Vulture from the bank? You were here a few minutes ago to pay in a cheque?"

"Erm... yes... is there a problem?"

"Oh, no problem with your cheque, Mr. Hirst. That's gone in fine. No, it's just that I noticed the current account you were using is quite an old one..."

(I didn't even pay the cheque into my current account - I paid it into my savings account. He had no reason to even look at my current account.)

"I wondered, if you were still nearby, if you wouldn't mind popping back in to see if I can't help you onto a better account for..."

I won't bore you with the rest, but yes, you guessed it, the "better account" was going to end up costing me more money... and yes, he rather lost interest in "helping me" once he discovered I was currently unemployed.

Here's an appropriate song in lieu of a punchline...

Everyone's A Critic And Most People Are DJs...

As I've mentioned before (should I start every blogpost with those words from now on?), I have some very good friends who are DJs. They do tend to be the exceptions though. They tend to be pretty normal people who just happen to like playing records and talking in between. They're not arrogant, vain bullshit merchants with rampant egos, hugely mixed up inferiority / superiority complexes and sadistic BO. No, that's just all the DJs who aren't my friends.

You might think that avoiding annoying DJs is easy - just don't turn on your radio when they're on. But it's not that simple. Recent restructuring in the radio industry has meant loads of despicable waffle-merchants having to seek other forms of employment... and now you never know where you're going to bump into one. Take this phone call I had from my insurance company this lunchtime...

(Names have been changed to protect the idiots.)

"Mr. Hirst? Hi, it's Bob from Waste Your Money Insurance here. I'm just calling to tell you about some great new policies you might be interested in..."

"OK, Bob, but I am at work at the moment - I can't really talk..."

"Don't worry, it won't take long. At work, eh? I understand you work in radio... I used to work in radio myself, you know? A little station down in London - I was on air too..."

"Really?"

"Yes, Death Of The Soul FM - do you know it? It started out as a hospital station but then it went online. I'm hoping to get back into it actually. I've got an application in at the moment..."

"Good for you. I really--"

"But I'm based in Glasgow at the moment. Still, there are plenty of stations up here too. One of the biggest radio groups - Crass'n'all - they've got new studios just down the road from here. I pop in sometimes on my way home from work, just to remind them I'm here if they need me. Out of sight, out of mind - so the opposite must apply too, eh?"

"Yes, I suppose. Do you mind if I--?"

"I'm not limiting my options though, I've also got an application in with KWRAP Cincinatti - that's actually one of the biggest Country Music stations in the US, did you know that? They only broadcast to about 20 different states. Radio's big business over in America, you know, the starting salary for a DJ over there is like $20 million, but if you can get into it--"

"Well, good luck with that--"

"I'm on the waiting list - though it can take up to ten years to get an interview. I'm only 50 though, so there's still time before I retire, eh? For an opportunity like that... well, you don't mind waiting, do you?"

I could feel my life slowly ebbing away. The only thing that stopped me from being a little firmer in my interruption was the sure and certain knowledge that as soon as he stopped talking about himself... he'd start trying to sell me insurance.

(From Almost Killed Me)


And finally for today... another cute cat pic. This is Wispa (who you've already met) and Murphy. Wispa and Murphy are in love, though sometimes Murphy is more in love with biscuits. They're both good as gold whenever Louise as around... but the second she steps out of the house, they show their true colours. Here's what they really think of me...

Quote Me Unhappy

So my car insurance renewal letter arrives. As usual, it's gone up massively from what I paid last year for no reason whatsoever. So I'm straight online to find a cheaper quote... which I do, within minutes.

I then have to call up the old insurance company and tell them I'm not renewing.

"Oh... sorry to hear that... can I ask why?"

"Because I found a much cheaper quote elsewhere."

"Oh, so it's purely a cost decision? If we could reduce your quote, might you consider staying with us?"

"I doubt you'll reduce it by fifty quid."

"Oh... perhaps not... we could probably come down by thirty or forty..."

The thing is, if my renewal had come through £40 less and I'd gone online to find I could only save a tenner, I probably would have stayed with them. But now they've quoted my £40 more than they actually need to just because they're greedy, that boat has sailed.

And yet, this happens every single year. There must be enough people out there who just automatically renew their insurance, whatever the quote, to make it worthwhile for the robbing bastards to carry on like this. And the best of it is, they actually sound hurt when you tell them you're cancelling.