Me: Hi Mr. Oldfart, it's just Ash calling from your wine society. How are you today?
Mr. Oldfart: Who?
Me: Your wine society Mr. Oldfart. Poshies Wine. You've been with us for 7 years.
Mr. Oldfart: What are you saying now?
Me (speaking veeeeeery slowly): IT'S ASH FROM YOUR WINE SOCIETY.
Mr. Oldfart: I don't want any groceries.
Me (trying not to be rude but failing miserably): No sir, we sell wine.
Mr. Oldfart: What language are you speaking? Bloody Indians.
Me (now pissed off): Sir, I come from England. I am calling from London.
Mr. OldFart: Are you from the library?
Me: No, I'm from POSHIES. Would you like some wine? With a discount?
Mr. Oldfart: I haven't taken out any books.
Me: Sir, shall I call back later? You seem to be having trouble hearing me.
Mr. Oldfart: Stop mumbling! No, I can hear you.
Me: You can?
Mr. Oldfart: YES. I'm not deaf you know.
Me: Oh no Sir, I was just saying would you like some wine from us?
Mr. Oldfart: From the library?
Me: No sir, from Poshies.
Mr. Oldfart: I've never got wine from them
Me: Yes you have Sir, you got a case of reds and whites in march.
Mr. Oldfart: No. I buy from Poshies.
Me: That's us Sir.
Mr. Oldfart: No, you said you were called something else.
Me: No, definitely Poshies. Did you want some wine Sir?
Mr. Oldfart: I'm not deaf you know!
Me (groaning inwardly): I wouldn't suggest it Sir! What sort of wine do you like?
Mr. Oldfart: I haven't got time to talk now, call me back tomorrow!
Me: Ok sir.
(AS HE PUTS DOWN THE PHONE)
Mr. Oldfart: Bloody callcentres in bloody India.
I can't win. On the plus side, I managed to plan my outfit for the wedding today between calls! Still no idea what to wear for the hen do though. What does one wear to a hen do anyway? Feathers? I'm going to wear feathers. And possibly a beak.