Kneebone Connected To Your... Neckbone

For weeks now I've been having intermittent problems with my broadband. The internet service provider says it's BT's fault. BT says it's the ISP's fault. Finally, after rewiring, rerouterising and remodeming my entire cliff top mansion several times over, BT decide to send out an engineer.

Half an hour and much head scratching later he beckons me over to look at a cable. 'That's the problem.' 'OK, how do we fix it?' 'Not my problem guv. But that's the problem.' 'Well hang on while I try a different cable.' I try a different cable. 'Nope, that's still the problem.' 'What do I do now then?' 'Nuffink to do with me. But that's the problem.'

With a cheery wave he then got back into his van and drove off, job done. And 40 minutes later I got a text from BT saying: 'We've fixed everything now.'

It left me wondering whether things were better before Thatch privatised everything. In those days I presume you had to wait 15 years just to get a telephone installed by the communist GPO. But at least you didn't have to deal with a multitude of private companies who could each blame the other while you, the consumer, sat in the middle like some kind of disconnected pudding.

Anyway, it seems to be working again for now. And while I've got your attention, please do visit the fake handbag pest here, and hit the 'Report Abuse' button at the top of his/her blog. It only takes a second to anonymously report it for spam, which will, fingers crossed, lead to Blogger deleting the see you next Tuesday!