An idle moment the other evening led me to try out pub insurance, you know the deal put rough details into a website and see if its favourable, if it is go back to it later.
Now I don’t want every idiot broker ringing me to try and push a sale so I enter a comedy phone number (01255 123 123) in this case it was a good idea as the firm in question could not quote my postcode but ‘they would pass my details to select insurers’ in other words sell my details to the world.
Imagine my surprise today to receive a call from said insurance company “hello sir you used our website, we noticed that you had used a number that was false, a lot of our customers do that” now herein lies a clue, I didn’t make a single digit mistake I entered an entirely fictional number one would presume from that I didn’t want a call back!
But I had not planned on Inspector Clueless who tracked me down via Karen ( the current landlady) despite the pub number not being readily listed ( I had tried previously). This was no mere insurance broker this was the insurance stalker from hell!
And now we reach the reason for the title, see there is one, he dutifully explained to me where his company was based, with due difference to the Isle of Wight address . . . . . . . .
“were from a company based in the United Kingdom, so you would have to pay UK tax on the policy” apparently my laughter was too ‘foreign’ to put him off. . . . “we are in actually in a coastal town called Blackpool, have you heard of it?”
Hell no, do I need a passport to get there? I don’t go to the UK fella I heard they got motorised carriages and all live in towers!
Already I’m hitting the things that make you smile about island life, as they have always made me smile about Walton life and you know what? I like it.