SORRY, I am really. I feel I must apologise to all the call centre workers who I have lost it with recently. It’s just I seem stuck in this vortex of confusion, which seems to define modern life.

Every time I call one of these desperate places I tell myself it is not the fault of the person on the end of the receiver. But after hours spent waiting for the calls to be answered, explaining the facts, ad infinitum, to a host of different people over several days I really do start to lose the will to live.

Take my experience of trying to get breakdown cover for two cars. My bank says I can get a 50 per cent discount on breakdown cover if I go to a particular company. So I contact the company, which tells me I can only get the discount once both my cars are insured with the same company. Fair enough. So I call the insurance company, which tells me they don’t know of such a discount. So I phone the breakdown people back to do the deal with them. “No”, explains the woman at the end of the line, “you can only get the deal from your insurance broker”. “But I can’t get the deal,” I explain, “because they have never heard of it.” “I can assure you Sir”, “No, you can’t,” I interject, getting rather snappy by now. Anyway, to cut a long and pointless dull story short, I was right and she was wrong.

But really that’s not the point. The point is all any of these staff can do is read what is on their screen, even when that’s a load of tosh.

So what’s the answer? Don’t drive, don’t live in a house that requires insurance, and whatever you do, don’t keep any money in a bank. Is it any wonder debt-ridden youngster have a live for the moment attitude to life.