Why do we call telegraph poles ‘telegraph poles?’ There hasn’t been a telegram sent since 1982, but the name persists. Possibly it is the hope that if we live to be 100 we’ll get one from the Queen congratulating us on our longevity, at which point speed is probably of the essence in case our clogs have popped between a letter being posted and it dropping through the letterbox.
But we still have telegraph poles. At least I had a telegraph between our house and our nextdoor’s until Friday. There it was when I set off for work. By the time I came home, it had been replaced by a stainless steel pillar.
No warning, no consultation and our characterful wooden pole is whisked away and a lump of ugly metal put in its place.
But we are allowed to complain. There is a notice stuck on the monstrosity that says we can object. We have three months. Sorry? Does cart and horse spring to mind here? Shouldn’t they have sought our opinion before they did the deed?
And if we can’t resolve our complaint with BT, we can then refer it to the County Court. The court in question being the Sheriff of Scotland. Dead handy for us that is.
I tell, in all other walks of public life, they can’t even change a light bulb without being able to demonstrate that the entire community has been consulted, but when it comes to telecommunications, they can do whatever they like. We’re allowed to argue about it afterwards, they rely on our apathy when confronted with a fait accomplis
Well I just might if only to twist the lion’s tail.