In the past, I have been somewhat critical of cruising. As a form of tourism, I believe it is extremely damaging, not only to the environment, but to the culture of the places the gigantic floating resorts visit and the experience of the unfortunate souls who happen to be in the same place when the ship docks.

Put simply, when an enormous ship docks in a small place, it all becomes about servicing that ship, even if the inhabitants of it have no real interest in said place.

But recently I have changed my mind; cruising is not the most obnoxious, blatantly intrusive and damaging form of tourism.

One Sunday in the Peak District

The other weekend, my good lady and I decided to head out to the Peak District and go for a walk. Before I’m called up for hypocrisy, yes, we drove. Tip of the iceberg etc. Live with it…

On the way to Cromford, we got snared up in a traffic jam. This was partly due to daytrippers such as ourselves, but largely due to a staggeringly huge bikers’ rally that seemed to be converging on Matlock Bath and Cromford.

The jams were, for the most part, caused by those delightful chaps on bikes heading round the side of the cars, then accelerating faster when the lights changed so that ten or 20 bikes would get through for every car, leaving an enormous tailback of frustrated drivers.

As we passed through Matlock Bath, the whole village was overrun. All the parking spots – and vast swathes of pavement that clearly weren’t parking spots – were taken up with bikes. Essentially, a few groups of bikers had decided to get together and completely overwhelm a delightful part of the world with a cacophony of engine noise and pollution.

Motorists vs cyclists

In doing so, they somehow managed to combine all the things that motorists hate about cyclists (flagrantly disobeying road rules, arrogant assumption of precedence) and everything that cyclists hate about motorists (noise, pollution, reckless endangering of others, arrogant assumption of precedence).

Obnoxious tourism

I really struggle to think of a more obnoxious form of tourism. I’ve absolutely no objection to anyone owning a motorbike and using it to explore the country (or indeed world). What I object to is a group deciding that they all going to converge on one tiny place that is clearly ill-equipped to deal with the influx, making furious noise* and thoroughly ruining the experience of anyone else who happens to be in the same place at the time.

I don’t like enormous tour buses, but at least that means they all travel in the same vehicle. Biker rallies ensure that thousands travel on their own, in an environmentally outrageous manner that directly impacting on the experience of others. There comes a point where having a hobby is no longer a positive thing. If you really have to make yourself feel better by conspiring to overrun a small village in order to meet people who like the same form of transport as yourself, can I suggest that you develop a penchant for buses?

*Actually, whilst I claim not to object to the ownership of motorbikes, I do believe noise reduction on them should be enforced by law. Sorry Harley owners, if that suddenly makes your machine less impressive, but tough shit.

If your level of expertise is such that you are trying to sell me A) a panini rather than a panino, B) some paninis rather than some panini or – god-forbid – C) some panini’s, then I’m probably not going to be impressed by the standard of your bloody toasted sandwich.

Regards,

David Whitley

ONE – Kamikaze Driver

He’s driven this route hundreds of times before and is so bored of it that he tackles it like a maniac. Completely sure of his own abilities, he veers across the road, overtakes on blind corners and careers around hairpin bends in a way that prompts visions of newspaper headlines about horror crashes.

TWO – The Complainers

They don’t go on holiday to enjoy themselves. They go in order to nitpick at every little thing, from the comfort of the seats to a minute deviation from the promised itinerary. They only consider it to have been a successful holiday if they manage to get a discount at the end. And if that means making everyone else’s life a misery, then so be it.

THREE – Disinterested Teen

Somehow they’ve ended up on the wrong holiday. They’re not in the slightest bit interested in learning about the place they’re visiting, and the iPod headphones have gone in from the moment the key turned in the bus’ ignition. The entire trip, therefore, will be punctuated by contemptuous yawns.

FOUR – The Watch Losers

They must have lost their watches, surely? What other reason would there be for them arriving back at the bus so consistently late at every stop, despite specific instructions to be back for a certain time. And as a result, most of the rest of the tour guide’s commentary consists of apologies for not getting much time at the key sites and begging people to be back when the clock strikes a certain hour.

FIVE – Mrs Weak Bladder

The bus has been in motion for a whole fifteen minutes before Mrs Weak Bladder sidles up to the driver to make a request. Cue a detour so that she can visit a public convenience, and an increasingly revised schedule based largely around toilet stops rather than attractions of interest.

SIX – The Photo Freaks

They have to get a photograph of absolutely everything, whether it’s a run-down shop or a meandering pigeon. And they have to get it from absolutely every angle. This, of course, means that you’re constantly treading on eggshells, trying to get out of the shot.

SEVEN – The Group Photo Freaks

You’re never going to see any of the people on the bus again. You don’t even like most of them. But you’re still going to have to grin and bear the losers that insist on taking group photos at every stop along the way. And, of course, once one person wants a group photo, everybody does. This ensures that you’re stuck in the same pose with a rictus grin for at least 30 minutes every day.

EIGHT – The Sleazy Tour Guide

He’s only in the job for one reason – and that’s to crack on to any unsuspecting hottie that may wander onto his bus. From the word go, his sole focus is getting into the delightful young lady’s knickers, and if any of the other passengers feel ignored, then tough luck.

NINE – The Newbie Tour Guide

He’s just been employed by the company, and he’s not even done a practice run of the route yet. He’s not quite sure where the hotels are, his knowledge comes from the few scraggy sheets of paper in front of him, and his commentary displays all the character of a frightened schoolboy who has just wet his pants.

TEN – The Lairy Lads

Wahey! They’re on holiday! So everyone’s got to have lots and lots of fun. Alas, their idea of fun generally consists of obnoxious bellowing, bullying anyone that might care for a quiet moment to themselves and a permanent state of drunkenness.

However, I’m not cool and never will be – so, for now, I’m prepared to stick to my pitiful logic. I’d sooner confess to my uncool hang-ups rather than ignore them because I feel that I really ought to. And here they are…

1.       I’ll have to send off for a visa

I’m very protective of my passport, and often need to go jaunting off somewhere at relatively short notice. Therefore I hate having to post it off for an undisclosed period so that some bureaucrat can stick a bit of paper in it. And, in my head, having to send off for a visa equates to a series of jobsworth encounters on the ground. I’ll go elsewhere thanks.

2.       I can’t get a drink very easily

I like booze. Partaking in it is a nice way to spend an evening. A bottle of wine over a meal, whilst not an absolute must, is pleasant. Similarly, I like a beer on a terrace of a summer’s evening, and occasionally a night on the tiles.

And, this is why I have a knee-jerk reaction that says: “Avoid Islamic countries.” There’s something awfully seedy about being confined to hotels if I want a drink, and I like to be able to have a social drink without feeling like a leper.

3.       I’ll probably get hassled

If I’m regularly going to be surrounded by people trying to sell me things/ offer their services as a guide/ ask me for money, then I’m not going to like it. Sorry Egypt, India and Jamaica – you’ve fallen down the list.

4.       I’ll have to spend time in a big Asian city

I just don’t get the appeal of big Asian cities, which is weird as I really enjoy big European cities, would love to go to Buenos Aires and Rio De Janeiro and could happily live in Cape Town or Sydney. I know there’s more to them than traffic, street food and temples, but I just see dirt and noise without that edge of excitement. And thus, if it means I have to spend time in Bangkok to get to parts of Thailand I’ll undoubtedly enjoy, I’ll think twice.

5.       There’s nothing to do

I have a relaxation threshold of approximately twelve minutes. I don’t care how beautiful the beaches are – if there’s nothing else I can do or explore, then I’m going to go stir crazy.

6.       I can’t get around by train

Despite the fact that I spent three weeks driving across Australia in May, I generally hate driving. Especially in cities or along dodgy country roads that I don’t know. Trains, on the other hand, are a wonderful way to get around. I can switch off, take in the view or read a book while someone else does the hard work. I’ll happily go out of my way to use public transport rather than rent a car, and if most of the things I’d want to see can’t be accessed by public transport, then I’ll go somewhere else where they can.

7.       It’s not a new country

This is the most childish of the lot. I shamelessly tick countries, and would thus sooner head to Kosovo than any of the 49 US states I have not been to, even though I know I’d almost certainly enjoy the latter more. For similar reasons, I’ll probably try to go to Manama before Montreal, the Faroe Islands instead of the Greek Islands and Baku ahead of Borneo. I really need to get over this, don’t I?

Do you have any similar reasons that make you avoid certain places? Well, try confessing by leaving a comment. Go on – it’ll be cathartic.

I’d like to say that the Hotel De Las Letras site is unique in this, but it most certainly isn’t. Many of its head-against-wall flaws are frighteningly common. But hoteliers, if you really want to make your site annoying and singularly unhelpful, here are a few tips to follow…

1. Meet the needs of the designer rather than your potential customers

When I was on a student paper, articles would be written and commissioned purely for the purpose of having something to enter for awards. That these tedious, overly earnest pieces were of no interest to the readership was an irrelevance – it was all about getting a shiny trinket and potentially furthering careers.

They may deny it, but magazines, newspapers and radio stations all do this – and so do designers. Give a designer a free reign, and they’re likely to use your site as an opportunity to show off what they can do with all manner of arty flourishes and technical wizardry. Alas, this often makes the site far more valuable as part of their portfolio than it does to people visiting it.

2. Add a Flash intro

Preferably one that lasts for at least 30 seconds and can’t be switched off.

Seriously though, if you have to even consider an option that says ‘skip intro’ then it shouldn’t be there in the first place. If a significant number of visitors are forced to get rid of something they don’t want before they can even have a look at what your hotel is about, what frame of mind is that putting them in? It’s certainly not one that’s conducive to booking on the spot, that’s for certain. Also, such intros can’t be viewed on many computers/ phones. As one writer said when I showed him the Las Letras site: “As I expected, it’s a completely blank page when viewed on an IPhone, which presumably means it’s a seething mess of Flash.”

3. Play some music

We all love music, don’t we? Especially some pseudo-funky lounge music designed solely for the purpose of producing an aural backdrop in bars populated by superwankers. Even more so when it’s forced upon us without warning. So stick some on your website, playing loudly from launch – and preferably without an option to turn it off. This goes down tremendously well with everyone – particularly those in offices having a quick peek at holiday options when they think the boss won’t notice.

Rule 1: Unless you are a musician or a record company, it is NEVER acceptable to put music on your website.

4. Hide the English language version

People who don’t speak the native language of the country your hotel is in should bloody well learn it if they want to grace your floors. So why not make them work to find the alternative language option?

The Las Letras site might well have an English option – I just don’t know where it is. It could be at the bottom of the screen. I don’t know – I’ve only got a small screen and there’s no scrolling function to allow me to see what’s lower on the page. Other sites fall into the trap of saying something along the lines of “choose language” but doing so only in original language of the site. And if someone’s Spanish/ German is so poor that they require an English language version, chances are that ‘idioma’/ ‘sprache’ will mean nothing to them.

5. Go for pictures rather than information

People don’t want to know anything about the hotel. They just want to see great big pictures of it. So fill the screen with them, and add little to no information about the hotel, the rooms or the facilities. People can just guess, can’t they?

This isn’t to say that pictures are inherently bad – they’re not. But detail is more important. The best way forward is to have a gallery option so that people can explore visually if they want, but ideally there should be as much information as possible to help guests make an informed choice. What size are the beds? How big are the rooms? What’s in the rooms? Are there lifts? And so on. This doesn’t have to be in one big splurge – but a tiered information structure that allows potential guests to find what they need hurts no-one.

6. Have separate booking screens and hide the prices

During that stage of vague trip planning, people don’t like knowing roughly how much something will cost. They prefer to be forced into entering specific dates and choosing a specific room type before being taken to a separate screen where they can discover how much it will cost on that day only. It’s good to go through all of this before discovering that a hotel is at least £100 outside your budget range and that you’ve wasted five minutes finding this out.

Is it really too hard to put “rooms cost between £X and £Y depending on season and length of stay” somewhere reasonably accessible on the site, so that people can at least have a ballpark estimate without the rigmarole?

7. Hide the extra costs

So the rate is room only? Don’t worry – no-one will want to know how much the breakfast costs, so don’t tell them. The same applies to internet access. As long as you provide WiFi, no-one will care whether it costs £1 or £30 a day to use it.

Alas, this isn’t the case, and I for one will never book a hotel without knowing how much the WiFi access will cost me…

8. Don’t let people copy and paste your address and phone number

This is something of a journalist-specific issue. If I’m writing a guide and need your hotel details, it’s far easier for me to copy and paste them than to flit between screens retyping. This is another crime of flash sites – info often can’t be copy-and-pasted (or, I believe, be seen by Google – which does you no favours in terms of search engine optimisation). But it’s not just about lazy hacks – travellers like to be able to write out their own itineraries, and it’s far better if they can paste the hotel address and phone number into a Word document.

9. Use a central reservations phone number

Big chains do this a lot. They have one central number for bookings, and don’t publish the number of the actual hotel anywhere. Because the ideal person to speak to if you’ve a specific enquiry about disabled access, non-smoking rooms, late check-outs or whether the bath and shower are separate is someone in a call centre 500 miles away who has never set foot inside the hotel in question.

10. Password-protect the media section

So you’ve been thoughtful enough to create a media section of the site for journalists requiring information, background history and photography of your hotel. That’s really kind. However, when I’ve got a short deadline, and need the information within minutes rather than days, if I have to apply to you for a password to access said section, I’m going to go to another hotel’s website instead.

Sarcasm aside, it’s really not difficult. If you want customers to book your hotel through your website rather than go through online booking engines that take a hefty commission, design the site with the potential guest in mind. After all, the website isn’t for your designer’s portfolio or for your own indulgence – it is for the people who may just want to stay at your hotel. And, if you don’t annoy them at every hurdle, there’s a far higher chance of them doing so.

Do you have any hotel website niggles? Share them by leaving a comment below…

As any writer who has written something for an online publication will probably know, feedback isn’t always that much of a blessing.

In the not so brave old world, you would write a piece for your newspaper, and unless it was controversial enough to spark hundreds of letters to the editor, you’d never know what the great unwashed thought of it.

Online comments sections

Nowadays, you write it, it goes online, and people can tell you exactly what they think within seconds via the comments section. In theory, this is amazing. But as many an online columnist would tell you, the people who like leaving online comments can often be a bit ‘special’.

Safety in South Africa

I bring the subject up, as recently I wrote a piece on how to stay safe in South Africa. I spent three weeks on the ground, speaking to everyone I could about the issue, and occasionally walking through areas on my own that many would consider ‘no go’. My conclusion was that, yes, there is a lot of crime in South Africa and, yes, some places are dangerous. But, on balance, the media hysteria about such problems is somewhat overplayed and the majority of visitors will encounter no crime if they keep their wits about them, use common sense and take a series of sensible precautions.

The response

It was, I think, a fair, balanced assessment, and one that I put an unusual amount of time and effort into coming to. But it started a firestorm.

“You’ll be responsible for the tourists who get murdered and raped in that country,” said one commenter. “This article is the most irresponsible, idiotic and totally false that I have had the great misfortune to have ever read,” chimed in another. Others accused me of being a racist or merely parroting ANC propaganda.

The problems of online feedback

Charming, huh? I’ll leave you to judge whether such comments are reasonable. But it does illustrate the problems of online feedback – those who have really strong opinions are far more likely to voice them. And when you’ve got an entire stream of comments from people who take the extreme position on something, it doesn’t exactly help readers form a balanced view.

Hotels and Tripadvisor

In such instances, a writer feels like a hotel that just had to deal with a group of guests from hell who, because management refused to give them everything they wanted for free, then decide to leave a series of bitterly stinging reviews on Tripadvisor out of spite

The need for moderation

The balance between free speech and distortion in favour of he who shouts loudest is a tricky one to manage. Online comments sections should be an amazing forum for debate – and occasionally they are. Alas, they’re often the equivalent of handing a megaphone to anyone with a very specific axe to grind. A debate without a moderator tends to be no more than a lot of people shouting.

When you’re travelling, it’s inevitable that there are going to be some places that you just don’t like. I have less-than-fond memories of Catania in Sicily, largely because I was stuck in the rain for hours with nowhere to hide, and Ostrava in the Czech Republic will always be a byword for grimness in my book. The latter is spectacularly unfair, as my only experience of the city is forlornly attempting to buy a train ticket from a stern-faced harridan.

Second chances

I think to properly say you don’t like – or rather, don’t click with – a place, you need to have visited more than once. First impressions can be misleading, and memories of a destination can be unfairly sullied by the weather or simply a foul mood. But when the second or third chance fails to convince as well, then, more than likely, it’s not the place for you.

For various reasons, there are a few places that I’ve tried twice over the years. Some, such as Auckland and Antigua, have become almost regular haunts due to transportation issues. And, try as I might, I can’t find any love in my heart for this little lot…

Dublin

I once saw a mock tourist board slogan that went along the lines of “Dublin: There’s bugger all to do, but you’ll be too pissed to care.” I find that rather accurate. Cost of beer has put off some of the stag parties in recent years, but I still find the city curiously uninteresting and unfriendly.

Cologne

Oooh – big cathedral. And, um, not much else to get excited about. Cologne seems to wish it was slightly bigger and more important than it is. Oh, and the local beers are by far the worst in Germany – if anyone offers you Kolsch, respond with: “No thank you, I shall stick to my diluted cat urine.”

Manchester

Mancunians seem to labour under the impression that Manchester is the greatest place on earth. More to the point, they do so in a bizarrely aggressive, cocky manner. I’m frequently dumbfounded by this, and can never quite work out where to start on the list of reasons why they’re utterly misguided.

This doesn’t apply to all Mancunians of course. Just most of them.

Cairns

As a base, Cairns is great. The Great Barrier Reef, the Atherton Tableland, Cape Tribulation, the Daintree and tropical rainforest are all on the doorstep. But as a city, it’s an undeniable hole. You just have to go to Darwin to realise how great a tropical city in Australia can be, but Cairns gets it all wrong. A combination of mass tourism, enforced fun and a drab, identikit centre combine for something surprisingly disappointing.

Amsterdam

I’m not massive on art galleries, and whilst Amsterdam does have some of the best in the world, they’re not enough to make up for the seedy vibe the rest of the city has. Also, just because somewhere has lots of canals, it doesn’t mean that those canals are attractive to look at. My mental image of Amsterdam remains of mayonnaise-covered chips, drunken groups of shaven-headed men and kamikaze cyclists.

Antigua

Anyone who has ever done any island hopping in the Caribbean will probably be overly familiar with Antigua’s awful VC Bird Airport. It is the hub for most LIAT flights and, no matter how many times you try to escape, you always seem to end up there.

But the island itself seems distressingly sanitised to me. Yes, there are some great beaches. Yes, English Harbour’s pretty cool. But the island is generally flat, unengaging and packed with upper middle-class English people who have long since exchanged the thrill of living for big garden in the posh suburb of town.

Copenhagen

It’s nice and perfectly pleasant. But I want more than just nice and perfectly pleasant.

Florence

As with Amsterdam, Florence offers little for those who want more than art galleries. The Duomo is, admittedly, a cracking effort but there’s a vibe about Florence I don’t like. It’s crowded and peaceless, while as a visitor I feel that my sole role is to be milked for as much cash as possible.

Auckland

As with Antigua, Auckland is somewhere I continually end up passing through for a night or two (it comes with the territory if you specialise in Australia, New Zealand and the Pacific Islands). It should be one of the most beautiful places on earth, situated as it is on an isthmus between two large natural harbours. But it really is butt ugly (aside from the Waitakere Ranges to west, but they’re only nominally part of the city).

Downtown Auckland, in particular, is devoid of charm, while the whole city lacks a united character. It seems to be the sort of place that everyone lives in because it’s expedient to do so, rather than because they desire to be there.

Glasgow

Glasgow is one of those places I keep having to go to and write about (one of my best friends also lives there). But I just don’t get it. It’s edgy, arty and with good shopping apparently – but all I see is an attempt to put lipstick on a pig.

Do you have a similar list of destinations that you’ve just not hit it off with? Share them by leaving a comment below…

Put tables alongside the security queue. Then we can get our laptops out early and reduce everyone else’s queuing time rather than waiting until just before we get to the conveyor belt. It is virtually impossible to pull a laptop out of a bag whilst holding said bag, incidentally.

TWO

Employ passport control officers who have a little consideration for frequent travellers. You know, ones who can fit stamps in the gaps of already used pages, rather than stick their handiwork right in the middle of a crisp new page.

THREE

Get rid of those awful taps that you have to hold down in order to get water out. Anyone who says they can wash their hands properly under those things is lying, and they seem particularly prevalent in airports for some reason.

FOUR

Put plug sockets near the seating so we can plug our laptops in.

FIVE

And the obvious one… OFFER FREE WIFI ACCESS.

While I completely understand your right to brand your hotels – after all, your guests will often choose to stay with you because they know what the brand name usually offers – you are starting to take the piss.

Let me explain something about names. My name is David Whitley. It is not David Whitley (an Eric Whitley child). Neither is it The Travel Journalist David Whitley, a human being by Eric Whitley Fathering Services Networking Services Ltd (TM).

You see, there is a difference between a name and a sentence. If your name is a sentence in itself, it is too long. And, hotel chains, I’m the one that gets to decide on sub-clauses in sentences – not you.

So if you think I’m ever going to refer to you as the Ritz-Carlton Chicago (A Four Seasons Hotel) or the Hawksbill by Rex Resorts, Antigua, then think again. You can be the Chicago Ritz Carlton, the Chicago Four Seasons, the Antigua Hawksbill or the Antigua Rex but if you insist on branding everything then just pick one name and stick to it. Having two is greedy, long-winded and – 90% of the time – grammatically dubious.

The same goes for you, Marriott Boca Raton Towneplace Suites and Hilton Seychelles Northolme Resort and Spa. And all of your pompous, word count-devouring chums. You’re either the Marriott Boca Raton or the Boca Raton Towneplace Suites; the Hilton Seychelles or the Northolme Seychelles. Decide which brand is strongest, and bloody well keep it to one.

If this trend for turning hotel names into corporate identity statements continues, then who knows where we’ll end up? Why be a sentence, when you can be a whole paragraph? Heck, why not insist that every website using your name plays a little corporate jingle as soon as the page loads, like Intel?

Your sincerely,

David Whitley – not Travel Writer and Blogger Mr David Keir Whitley Esquire of Sheffield, England, by Eric and Rosie Whitley (a UK national) *ding ding ding ding ding*.

In many ways, modern banking is wonderful. I can travel pretty much anywhere in the world and withdraw money from a machine using my trusty bank card. I can also pay for many things with my credit card just by a swipe and sign or tapping in a PIN.

It’s a million times easier than the old system of travellers’ cheques and carrying huge swathes of cash that have been exchanged at home. But the banks don’t half seem determined to wreck this painless joy in the name of security.

Air Miles credit card

For credit cards, I use the Lloyds TSB Airmiles duo. This is great for two reasons – firstly I get both American Express and Mastercard (useful for when one isn’t accepted) and, secondly, I earn Air Miles on everything I spend.

But LloydsTSB doesn’t seem to get that such a credit card is likely to be used by people who travel frequently. And they have an irritating habit of putting a block on it when I make a transaction in, say, Moldova or Samoa.

Credit card blocks

This has happened to me a few times now, and the ritual is always the same. I make a hugely expensive call from my mobile to say “Can you please take that bloody block off?” and they try to pretend that putting it on in the first place was part of their excellent service. It’s part of the security measures designed to protect me – unusual spending patterns get flagged up, and blocks occasionally instituted for safety’s sake.

Unusual spending patterns

I then have to explain that I am a travel writer. I use the card for both work and pleasure, and I conduct both in all manner of obscure corners across the globe. There will always be unusual spending patterns – purchase of a new computer, flights from an obscure airline, cash withdrawals in the middle of nowhere – because my life follows unusual patterns. Ones, it should be noted, that should be ideally suited to this particular pair of credit cards.

Beating the system

Next, I will ask if there is any way to circumvent this system so that I don’t have to go through the faff of periodically unblocking my card in phone calls from Whoopwhoopistan. They’ll say no – it’s a fully automated system and that the best way to prevent this is to phone and inform them every time I’m about to go abroad so that the dates can be logged.

Genuine transactions

What an utter pain in the arse this is. Of course I’m not going to do that – and neither should I have to. There should be some way of logging in the system that I travel abroad frequently and that these ‘suspicious’ transactions are highly likely to be genuine.

Security obsession

Such obsession with security has also made using my current account a pain in the backside. I bank with Nationwide, and use the Visa debit card that comes with that account. I also make a lot of transactions via internet banking.

Card Reader

This was great right up until the point where Nationwide helpfully sent me a ‘Card Reader’ in the post. For added security, I now have to put my card into this and enter all manner of numbers and passcodes before my internet banking transaction is allowed to go through.

I also have to take the bloody thing everywhere with me in case I should need to pay a bill, or transfer some money while I’m abroad. And as nuisance items to pack go, it’s up there at the top. I really shouldn’t need to have to take what looks like a little blue calculator with me.

Better service?

But the thing that annoys me most is that the banks, building societies and credit card companies claim that such irritants are about offering a better service. Let’s get one thing straight – it is not. Credit card blocks and card readers are not introduced for my security – they’re an arse-covering measure. The banks/ credit card companies know darned well that they become liable for anything bought on a card that costs over £100 if it is done so fraudulently. In other words, they are the ones that have to pay for it in the end.

And it’s far better to annoy the customer in the name of security and service than it is to stump up, isn’t it?