Friday, 7 October 2011

The exceptions that prove the rule

I like to choose for myself which charities I support.

But one way to stop me giving to any particular cause is to be ambushed in the street by one of those soap-dodging "charity muggers" or "chuggers" who asks me how my day is going.

"Sh*te - f*** off!" is the special response I usually reserve for those smiley b*****ds, who I detest.

But, since moving to our new abode a few months ago, I've encountered a new problem in the form of charity cold callers who phone me up to ask me how my day is going.

As it happens, "sh*te - f*** off!" is the reply they tend to get from me too.     

But today I feel I owe chuggers and charity cold callers something of an apology.

Because this afternoon I was ambushed in the street by a hairy chugger. And, since arriving home, have been cold called by a patronising woman who asked if I was also a woman.

Sticking to the script, I told them both to "f*** off!" and, as a result, my day is no longer "sh*te."  In fact, I've never felt better.

So it's a sorry from me then.