Oh! While I’m here I must do my public duty and tell everyone about my phone bill fandango. I never check my phone bill – preferring to bury my head in the sand over such fiscal matters – but earlier this week I phoned EE to upgrade my phone and they pointed out that I’d been charged £1 a week since May 2014 for some “digital service” or other. I didn’t make too much of it on the phone in case it was something embarrassing or indeed dodgy which would of course have been something I’d clicked inadvertently, or under the guise of “research”…
It turns out that some shyster games provider had been, unbeknownst to me, fleecing me for two years to the tune of £104! EE were very good about it and furnished me with a phone number to cancel this so-called subscription. I stabbed angrily at the keypad and eventually got through to an automated service which probably costs £100 a minute. I got to the bit where you have to bark CANCEL. CANCEL. CAAAANCELLLL! down the phone like a loony and then waited for what seemed like an eternity until the automated voice reluctantly conceded that I’d now been unsubscribed.
Of course this is all well and good but there remained the problem of the £104 of my money they’d pilfered. I emailed the bastards and a volley of emails ensued which included my use of phrases like “I’m 54; what would I want with a subscription to online games?” and “…underhand marketing tactics” and made some empty threats about what I’d do if I didn’t receive a full refund within 24 hours good day to you sire which I like to think scared them into a refund. Of £3.92. Quite how they arrived at this frankly arbitrary sum is beyond my ken, so I declined their generous offer. After another couple of volleys it was game, set and match to me, kinda. They offered me £59 and I grudgingly accepted because well that’s about the price of a pair of shoes, right? I’m no fool. The thing is, I never know how to behave when a hostile situation is resolved to the satisfaction of both parties, but I think this look sums it up nicely:
While my tomahawk runneth red, I took it upon myself to email the church next door about the Wednesday night mass illegal u-turn manoeuvre that takes place on the road right outside my door which is clearly part of a cycle route so for cyclists and pedestrians only. I spend my Wednesday evenings twitching the Venetian blinds to catch the buggers in flagrante, as it were.
So, fired up from the run-in with the hustlers at B!Game, I spent an hour composing an unnecessarily formal – bordering on Shakespearean – email, which is a strange mixture of old and new, verily. It seems to have been resolved satisfactorily, and neighbourly harmony has been restored.
But I’ll be watching. Don’t think I won’t.
PS Check your phone number here to see if you too are being fleeced by the buggers at B!Game.
PPS I didn’t buy shoes with the money; I bought a denim frock which albeit rather snug, is quite flattering. I try to avoid button-up clothing after the accidental Judy Finnigan I once performed while gallumphing up the Loreburne Centre one busy lunchtime whilst wearing a shirt with straining buttons so I’ll be playing shirt-dress roulette every time I wear the new frock, but hey ho, you only live once as far as I know.
Judy; then and now.
(Pictures courtesy of some shady tabloid. They can sue me if they like. I’ve nae money. I’ve even spent my 59 quid refund).