I’m sure I’m in very good company when I say that one of my pet hates is cold callers.

In common with most people, I get them at work and at home . . . and the tenacity of some of them is absolutely breathtaking.

I was visited today - in person - by a very pleasant young man who works for one of the culprits (not the worst by any means … but still capable of being a complete pain in the proverbial).  He was actually trying to sell me an upgrade on what we already have, but as I made it very plain - and I mean VERY plain - even before his bottom hit the comfy chair that we had no money and therefore weren’t in any position to cough up £7.50 a month for a weblink or anything, he just fell to chatting over the coffee I had provided in a rare fit of bonhomie.

In the course of the conversation, he let it slip that if there’s one thing he really, really hates it’s cold callers disturbing him in the evenings and at weekends, just as he’s settling down to his hard-earned sausage and mash . . .