Middle-aged Telegraph Reader

I’m a worried man. Yesterday, I returned home to find two items of junk mail waiting for me. Now normally I would just put this stuff in the bin and think no more of it, but I was disturbed by the type of people who have started writing to me. One letter was from The Daily Telegraph, who wanted to tell me about their latest wine offer. I don’t think I’d read their nasty right-wing rag if you paid me, much less buy wine off them, but worse awaited me in the second item of mail, which thanked me for my interest in over-50s holiday specialists SAGA, and offered me a questionaire to complete so they could send me the brochure that best fits my needs.

How did this happen? What box did I tick (and on what form) to indicate that I was some kind of right-wing 50 year old? How could the junk mail industry get their targeted demographic so wrong–have I been buying the wrong sort of things on my reward card? Has the big computer in Ken’s living room that tracks your Oystercard travel been registering some activity of mine that betrays my advancing years? Have I been buying the wrong sort of stuff off Amazon? (If you liked this, you might also like… over 50s holidays!)

I need to know.

When I mentioned this to my dad, he said something along the lines of “oh well, only 24 years to go”. Somehow that didn’t make me feel any better.

6 thoughts on “”

  1. I think ownership of the Nectar card is the Mark of the Beast. I don’t have one of the things, and I never will! Dammit!

  2. I’ll give you £2.50 and pay for the paper if you read an edition of the Telegraph cover to cover.

  3. Ah yes, very amusing. Putting my convictions to the test like that. I may have exaggerated slightly–I probably would read the Telegraph if you paid me, but it would have to be a bit more than £2.50. How much are you prepared to offer?

  4. Ummm, I’ll buy the paper, stake £3 and throw in a packet of noodles and a SARS facemask.

  5. I don’t believe it: last night I got home to find more junk mail from Saga. Just as well I’m moving house, really, isn’t it.

    Alright, nobody tell them where I’m going, ok?

Comments are closed.