On trying to get blood from a stone

On trying to get blood from a stone

"Hello, Lloyds TSB Useless Workshy Cunts of an Insurance Company, how can I help you?"

"I'd like to make a claim on my leaking roof."

"Yes, thank you sir, in your dreams. Can you tell me when the loss occured?"

"We first noticed it on May 30th. It's just got worse since."

"I'm sorry sir, we can't help you."

"Why not?"

"Our Met Office records show the wind speed was only 33mph that day."

"Buh?"

"It has to be 46mph to pay out on a leaking roof."

"Muh?" and "Pardon?" and "Water?" and, finally managing to rally, "You are having a laugh, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry, sir, those are the regulations."

"The new regulations? The ones you just made up because you're losing your shirts on these floods?"

"Err..."

"I've got news for you, chap - I didn't buy a house on a flood plain or at the end of a wind tunnel. Do I get a rebate?"

"Uh..."

"Why didn't you buggers tell me I had bought the Can't-Claim-At-All Policy? Frankly, it would have saved me from calling you, and I'd be up there fixing it now, dicing with death like Rod Hull's last night on this Earth.

"I'd call you thieves, but I have made it my life's work to remove every last biro and paying-in slip from every Lloyds branch I visit."

I got the call centre monkey to laugh. Small victories.

It turns out the roof is a result of Useless Workshy Cunt of a Builders all-round incompetence, and I've still got to sort out a date when a large, brown, steaming package appears through his letterbox. Damn CCTV cameras - you can't even carry out a petty personal vendetta these days without getting a visit from the law.