A Cold Shoulder

My boyfriend doesn't often make me laugh... not on purpose anyway. However, I do find it funny when he gets a 'cold call'. For those of you (out of the three people who actually claim to read my blog) who don't know what a cold call is, (and shame on you - for how can you live in the UK without experiencing one of the main displeasures that haunts our middle-aged?), it's a phone call made by someone who has sold their soul to the nearest begging multinational by agreeing to pester unencouraging parties by telephone at all inappropriate hours of the day.

My boyfriend gets these calls at least once a week, and usually at the weekend. On Saturday at about 10am, he got one from a woman with an extremely strong Indian accent, who talked as fast as her computer could dial a phone number. BF couldn't tell what she was saying, and didn't care to request clarification. I was sitting next to him on the sofa, laughing, as I could hear her robotically chanting at him.

When she had finished her sales schpiel, he answered her with a question, "Where did you get my number?" She began her chant again, so he passed me the phone.

I heard her politely ask on the other end, "Ok?"

I didn't answer, and couldn't for laughing.

"Ok, sir?" she pleaded.

I still didn't answer.

BF took the handset from me and slowly, measuredly placed it back on the receiver.

Hero

Apocalyptica - Refuse, Resist (Live)