"Thank you for your recent enquiry. I have tried to call you today, however I have been unable to contact you using the telephone number you provided. I would like the opportunity to confirm that you were happy with the quote I gave, and to see if there were any further questions or problems I could assist in solving. Therefore I would be grateful if you could provide me with a telephone number and a time when it would be best to contact you."

Maybe, you fucking buffoon, the reason I didn't give my phone number is because I don't want you calling me, pestering me for your business, when the only reason I filled out the form was to get a vague idea of how much something costs, in this case putting something in storage for a few weeks.

If you've not done it before, how the fuck do you know how much it costs to put something in storage? I fill out the form to find out, and, this is the clever bit, I'm asked to include my phone number so they can tell me my quote over the phone.

The problem is that I'm a normal man, and I therefore don't much like talking on the phone. If you do like talking on the phone, you're either female, a sadist or a cunt. The gigantic industry of bastards who try to sell things to us every minute of our lives (where you are, right now, can you see an advert for something? of course you can) have cottoned onto this, and realise that people who find phone calls unpleasant will do anything to make them end as quickly as possible. Some people will tell an unwanted caller to fuck off, whereas others might do something as insane as agreeing to buy whatever is being flogged to them, just to be able to end the call and get their life back.

If only there was a way to prevent this unwanted invasion of your mental space by these loathsome, capitalism-driven arseholes. If only it was possible to, for example, always put a telephone number other than your own into that box.

I suppose the fact that I put my phone number as 020 819 80085 didn't give it away?

Sporting why

So Wimbledon's on. Sharapova went out to one of the Williams women, which is a bit unnecessary if you ask me. Sport is supposed to be about entertainment isn't it? Roddick lost to some lad from Taiwan, though the BBC aren't allowed to call it that for fear of the UK being immediately annihilated by Chinese bombs. Scotty Murray went through, shouting and yelling like the horrible provincial oaf he is.

Brazil are currently caning the proffered backsides of Chile in the World Cup. It's been over a day since England went out and I've still not heard of anyone who gives a fuck. Laughing at that shower of bastards is always better when they've been genuinely hounded out of a tournament. We couldn't laugh in 1990, even though not a single human being with an IQ above 95 actually thought more highly of Paul Gascoigne than they do of those cunts who have to stop at the top of escalators to put down their wheeled suitcase and lift its handle. Now we can look at John Terry and add "worse footballer than Matthew Upson" to his lengthy list of shameful descriptions, and chuckle at length.

Beating Australia in the cricket again. That's right, again. At this point I'm duty bound to use the phrase "Aussie baaaaaaaaaaaaastards", even though I went there a few years ago and it's far nicer than Yorkshire, Derbyshire, Glamorgan and many of the other irredeemable hovels the UK has on offer outside of its marvellous capital.

Sport sport sport. Why why why. It does help to bring down cultural barriers, to promote progressive values and bring the world together. On the phone earlier my mum called it 'poofball', but to be fair she has always been a mean right-winger.

Tune for a day: Can't Smile by Vex Red.