Get off of my Time

Eugh thing.  Client just gave me the wrong number to call her.  I call.  Some buttery old bugger wheezing on a fag end answers.  I resist the temptation to hang up immediately, but after establishing (quickly) that I'd reached the wrong number, he was cloyingly persistent, crapping on about 'Anthony Keith Menswear of Pimlico*'.

Was the over-the-phone version of stepping into a shop/area of a department store knowing you've made a wasteful choice, only to be kettled by the sales assistant towards The Wrong Thing For You.  Does this work on people??  'Oh I know I said I was looking for a knee-ish length silk type dress for a summer wedding, but you're so right - the black Lycra-lace thigh cropper is what I meant.'

Anyway, valiantly trying to close the call and hang up, I left the tinkering-with-himself tailor muttering, creepily:

"Well, we're always here to give you a little chat. I can't fit women but I can chat to them. Any time you like. Any thing you like. God bless you."

 It's a good thing the wind didn't change direction on my facial expression by the time I bashed the receiver!

*I'm glad I'm not a 13yr old boy with a trouser leg in SW1P.