Youre back in your hovel, sorry, house. Its quiet. Oh, so quiet. You crack a beer open (well, it is 12.17pm after all) and sit back on the couch. This is your day (well, it is once you remember to remove your pants). A day of sitting. And looking. And occasionally remembering to breath. Living with others you can have wonderful debates about politics, love, life. You can phone friends who havent seen in years and catch up. You can be proactive. You can win at life. When you live by yourself though, its all too easy to wait for things to happen to you. Politics? Well, there was the pasty-tax of 2012. Love? Well, you love a cold beer. Life? Well, other people have one so they obviously exist. And phone calls? Well, sometimes a good phone call is all you need to make you feel human again. A call from a friend inviting you out. A call from a loved one asking how you are. Hell, even a call from a work colleague asking you to email something over. A good phone call is all you need. Then it happens. The ring of the phone. You jump up, almost leaping in delight, and bound across the room to the phone. Before picking up the receiver, you breath (you dont want to sound too excited). Then, then, you pick up the phone and... Its a pre-recorded PPI claim message. And you listen to it. You listen to all of it. Because its the only voice youll hear today. A lovely, warm, robotic voice with no sense or care of who you are. But its your lifeline. Its your friend. And you weep.