‘Time to begin your adventure with Mr Benn!’ said the letter that came through my door, in a big loopy red font, beneath a picture of a smiling, waving, bowler-hatted Mr Benn.
And this would have been fine had I been a five-year-old whose mother had sent off for a box-set of classic Mr Benn, or tickets to Mr Benn World of Adventures.
As it was, I stared at the letter trying to work out how this could be my new horse insurance policy. Quite aside from it mistakenly addressing me as if I was a toddler, what had the 1970s children’s TV character to do with horses?
I couldn’t work it out. But there was Mr Benn on the top right-hand corner of my policy documents. And the letter began ‘Hello Ms Melissa Kite and Darcy.’ Yeah, Darcy can’t read. So probably best to just talk to me — you know, the human being who’s paying the bill?
I have been with this company for the best part of 20 years.
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