The chef's blog

Can'terbury tales

Just before Christmas, some over-refreshed no mark trog decided to finish off his evening with a Herman Munster like Pas de deux with his beau on the bonnet, roof and wing mirror of my beloved Alfa.

The card said, phone this number. I get the broker. They took my details and gave me a reference number. They span the ball away like the hottest of potato’s in a sort of ‘we’ve just flog the stuff’, panic. The insurer took my details, lost them, denied it, took my details, sat on them for 3 weeks. But I did get a reference number. Two in fact, disproving any allegation that the first set of details was indeed a figment of my traumatised and delusional imagination.

They passed me on to the underwriter. They took my details, didn’t lose them, sat on them for two weeks and gave me two reference numbers.

The underwriter passed me onto an engineer at a garage. They didn’t give me a reference number. There was I thinking the McQuirter brothers – if still alive – would chomp my arm off for news of a record breaking reference number haul. In fact, whilst the three afore-referenced companies dicked about in the mire of process and protocol designed – one would have to suppose – to make it as damn difficult as possible, the man from the garage offered up the following piece of excellent insight. ‘It’s f**ked mate. Going nowhere. Write-off’.

The underwriter and the insurer then blamed each other for a further delay. The insurer customer service operation then demonstrated a ‘gift’ for double-talk and double-standard in a language that I immediately identified as double-b******s.

It took a geezer with a total control of a useful tool (a real tool) to be the first ‘to put me in the gen’ – where three insurance companies, three telephone numbers, five reference numbers, 9 weeks and a legion of happy, smiley, helpy, customer servicey, all my best matey, computer says ‘No’ peoplely only acting when stroppy yours truly fires a ferret at them - couldn’t.

Here I am writing more cosy TCF copy and thinking - not a cat in hells chance fellas! So who the villains? That would be telling tales.