“Hello! I hope that you are very well today! I have a question for you and I am hoping very much that you will be able to help me.”
This is how I speak when I’m on one of those live chat things. I honestly don’t know what happens to me, I sound as though all of my words have been fed through Google Translate. By live chat I mean live help, by the way, not the other – “sexy” – type of live chat. Sexy in inverted commas for obvious reasons – I can’t think of anything more unsexy than someone on the other end of a phone telling me about what they’re doing with their genitals. Especially when you can hear them chomping their way through a bag of cheesy Wotsits.
“Yeah,” munch munch, “I’m taking me pants off now, oooh it feels so good.” Rustle rustle, which isn’t the world’s most synthetic pants coming off at all, it’s a new bag of crisps being dug out of the Tesco bag that’s sitting on top of the desk. “Do you like that Bob" Do you" Ooh I bet you do. Guess what I’m doing now, Bob"”
Oh, I don’t know Kandi, are you trying to cut a scotch egg in half with the edge of a ruler"
To be clear, I’ve never manned a sex line or phoned one, but I did know someone who did it for an evening and came back with enough anecdotal material to last a lifetime. She had her own desk in a booth, which during daytime hours was used ...