The slippery slope

Earlier this week I found myself with the telephone in my hand and the ringing tone in my ear. A lady with a stern voice answered. As she did so I realised I had no idea who she was or why I had called her.  As she gave her number I scanned my desk for clues - nothing. 

"Hello, I am dreadfully sorry, but would you mind telling me who you are?" I asked, feebly.

"Surely you know who I am, you called me!" she replied, sounding much more assertive than me. 

"Yes, I know - but I have dialled your number and hit a mental blank. I cannot remember who I called and I do not recognise your voice. Would you tell me your name in the hope that it jogs my memory?"

"Certainly not, why should I give you my name?"  She said, not unreasonably. "Why don't you tell me your name and the nature of your business and I will tell you if I know you."

By this time I had a vision in my mind's eye of a formidable woman not unlike Mrs Richards from Fawlty Towers.

"I'm Andrew Kennedy, from the Conservative Party in West Kent."

"WHO?"

I repeated it, with a growing sense of foreboding that this wasn't going to end well. 

"I have never heard of you and I don't think we have anything in common. And if you phone people you don't know and fail to remember who you called or what you wanted to say, then no wonder you didn't win the last election. Goodbye"

Click. 

And that was the end of it.