DIARY: RANT

There I was, sitting at my desk on a Friday afternoon, on deadline with one page to go. I was staring into space in search of inspiration, having already called everyone I could think of without any joy.

There I was, sitting at my desk on a Friday afternoon, on deadline

with one page to go. I was staring into space in search of inspiration,

having already called everyone I could think of without any joy.



All of a sudden a fax landed on my desk. Among the usual blurb was:

’Please resend your details today for booking purposes.’ The fax

appeared to have been sent by a dotcom.



Rubbing my hands together and thinking of charging ratecard, I phoned

the company to speak to ’Timothy of business development’.



The phone was answered by a public school-educated media type. But when

I asked to speak to Timothy, the posh boy’s voice quickly turned into a

Cockney ’Oo’s callin’?’



When I told him, he paused and said: ’Just fax the media pack and I’ll

get ’im to call you.’ I asked why he wouldn’t put me through, and that’s

when things got weird. ’Ee’s not ’ere, guv - I fink ’ee’s gorn abroad

for six weeks to see some clients.’



On later perusal I noticed that the mock dotcom’s fax number was an 0906

pounds 1-a-minute premium-rate number.



The last thing we need are East End conmen trying to blag us on deadline

day. So if you get a fax from asking you to contact Timothy, my advice

is to bin it - straight away.



Got something to rant about? Call 020-8267 4702 or e-mail

mark.tungate@haynet.com.



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