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The Titfield Thunderbolt Hue and Cry Whisky Galore The Man in The White Suit Previous Previous Next Next
Don't call me. Just don't. - The Titfield Thunderbolt
Heisenberg might have stayed here
Don't call me. Just don't.
I have never been a great fan of the telephone. Nevertheless it has become apparent that my 10-year-old mobile doesn't really cut it any more and I've been pondering upgrades. I had decided I wanted Android (mainly because I hate Apple with a passion) until reading that 70% of phone malware targets it, which nearly persuaded me to go for an iPhone; but then I switched back on the basis that I'm likely to install only a minimal number of apps.

I did a little research and decided on the handset and tariff I wanted, only to find that the O2 shop was advertising the same deal at a completely different (and more expensive) rate. So I decided I would upgrade on-line. This only involved trying to discover my O2 username (it turns out I had two, and with some difficult persuaded the site to merge them) and password, fighting with the postcode checker for delivery to work, and battling a staggering number of error pages. If I'm lucky it might turn up on Thursday with my name on it, but I'll hardly be surprised if it turns out not to be that simple.

And I could have done without discovering the VAT "place of supply" changes for 2015 that mean every one of our sites at work will have to offer tax rates for all 28 member states, rather than one each.


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