All I wanted was clear, decent sound!

Chronicles of an Orange-Haired Woman!

Ye gods! Today and yesterday have been extraordinarily fraught as I fought the system for the apparently unreachable luxury of a working phone and clarity of sound.


Honestly, the way the services reacted, anyone would have thought I were hassling them for the Holy Grail, the Sacred Right Testicle of St Darren or the Philosopher’s (Gall) Stone. I have been passed from proverbial pillar to off-pissing post by a succession of sanctimonious jobs-worths, all of whom seemed to believe that I was a moron of the first order and that their part in the grizzly process was to pass me on to some other righteous tosser whilst suggesting that the whole thing was my fault and my responsibility and I jolly well ought to man up and get down to work.


The whole thing was made infinitely worse by the fact that the demonic infestation of my telephone…

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