I have a job to do when I get home from work tonight. This job primarily involves ripping BskyB a new arsehole. We have been with them almost a year. As this year is coming to an end, the guarantee on all our satellite equipment will run out, resulting in the dish spontaneously combusting and the box sprouting legs and walking off. Yup, we need one of those stupid care packages to protect us against all these eventualities. If the stuff was properly made, there would be no need for these extended warranties.
Anyway… A man from Sky called Claire yesterday. She didn’t take his name, but I don’t suspect it was Jeff Stelling or Rupert Murdoch. From the sounds of things, the aforementioned man tried to sell Claire a load of useless bollocks, and quizzed her on all our television appliances in our house – how old they were, how much they cost… it probably wasn’t Sky, it was probably a burglar, enquiring if our house has stuff worth nicking. It hasn’t. Our TV is only 32 inches. Burglar Bill told Claire some lie how our personal insurance policy didn’t cover us. How the fuck he knew this, I don’t know. The liar.
They’re sending us confirmation of our new “policy” in the post. Probably written in crayon. I will be calling Sky tonight and telling them where to stick this policy (in the bin). I will reluctantly pay for our satellite dish and box to be covered, although considering the extortionate monthly fee we pay for television already, I don’t see why we should. What I will not pay for is for our TV, radio, microwave, pot plant or anything else to be insured. I have my arsehole-ripping gloves ready.
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