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Wednesday, 19 November 2014


Cold callers,  script-readers on the phone line,
"Allo, mate" the usual opening blurt,
From a geezer-sounding pipsqueak of a squirt.
Chumminess and sales patter both combine
To raise my hackles and to boil the blood -
Double-glazing, new driveway, roof repairs,
Insurance, pensions, random questionnaires -
Just snake-oil blether, full of crap and crud.
They want money, think I'm an easy touch,
Out for the vulnerable gal or chap,
The weakling, the patsy, the eventual sap,
To sign a contract for such and such.
The reaction to all this crap and crud?
Just slam the phone down with a thud.

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