I'm someone who looks forward to being cold called by people selling me things. It gives the hidden actor in me a chance to come out and play and I love to see just how far I can push these people before they realise they're wasting their time. Today I was a confused and somewhat senile man who got a call from Vincent from Toucan Telecom. He wanted me to know I could save money on my monthly bill. I was unsure about how much my bill came to usually but I told him I went to the bank and paid it. I had a two minute "yes it is/no it isn't" argument about whether Midlands had changed it's name to HSBC (for those outside the UK, this happened at least five years ago) and then switched sides and acted like I'd been arguing for it all along. Yet still Vincent persued his aims, despite me being either mentally unstable or having him on. I assumed that he thought I was the former, my speech was confused and slow and I took way beyond the normal amount of time to answer his questions but still he pressed on. He asked me "is this a residential line?" and I told him he shouldn't be calling me from home because it must be costing him a lot of money. A full five minutes passed before I accepted that he was calling from an office and the question was regarding my own line. Even still, he continued asking for my name and address (even though it later became apparent that he already had these on record) and my all important bank details. He asked for the sort code of my bank and when I told him I didn't know what a sort code was he told me in the same way you might tell a child, or a senile old man. After quarter of an hour I got bored and decided to bring a new character into the conversation; my carer. I mentioned that my carer might have my bank details because "they don't let me do that". He made one last attempt before conceding that he might have to talk to my carer instead. So I put my phone on mute while I rehearsed voices and the best one sounded a lot like Graham Chapman as King Arthur, so I used that. Fair dues to Vincent, he put up with my new guise for a further ten minutes or so. He began by explaining what had taken place so far and then asked for my clients bank details. He argued his case, he told me he wasn't selling anything, he denied any knowledge that my client was mentally unstable or even confused. He even had the audacity to offer to play the conversation he'd had with my client back to me. Then came the crunch; I asked him his name. No longer was he Vincent, he was 'dead line'. Fuck you, Vincent from Toucan Telecom, you callous, cynical cunt. And fuck Toucan Telecom for employing you.