I want to dial M for murder over nuisance calls

THERE are at least three major emotional storms that regularly beset the besieged pensioner. Or at least this one. First, there is the unalloyed joy at discovering one still has one’s own hips with the manageable side effect of unworthy smugness.

Second, there is the frustration when encountering a pharmacist and trying to convince him or her – while he or she is speaking appreciably louder than is absolutely necessary – that one’s not in his chemist for a prescription, whatever appearances may suggest. Third, one has constantly to fight the urge to buy a cardigan.

These minor irritations, however, pale beside the regular torture that is the nuisance call. These are not the exclusive preserve of the old, of course. But there is a direct link between age and the inability to deal with them properly.

There is also a target printed on the back of pensioners that seems to attract the bold and the unscrupulous.

My list of calls is dominated by those seeking to insure my life, control my investments and help arrange my funeral. They know I’m a pensioner. But how? And how did they get my number?

Those who know about such things assure me I must have filled in some form, or accessed some dodgy airport Wifi, or taken part in some survey. But I have no recollection of this.

I have, incidentally, no recollection of many things so the informed may have a point.

Whatever the genesis, whatever diabolical procedure that has been used to find my number, the fact remains: it is not a chiel that winna ding, it is a phone that always rings. It is the nuisance caller.

It may first be stated that I feel obliged to take the calls. I am a journalist and answering calls is part of the trade. I cannot block calls from beyond my contact list, for similar reasons.

Age and circumstance thus leave me open to the annoying and the criminal. The calls have various levels. There is the largely innocuous person who is trying to sell something and will, eventually, take no for an answer. Then there is the aggressive survey taker who wants answers but won’t take an initial no for one. It will only take a minute, they claim, when one’s available minutes can be counted on a dolphin’s hand.

The fear and loathing increases, however, in the next stages. The silent caller is self-explanatory though his or her purpose is a mystery.

The most concerning is the call that advises one, ironically, of data breaches. The national insurance number has been accessed so press 1 immediately for further information. There has been activity on one’s credit card (never specified) in North Wales (always specified).

The fear of the listener is being rammed up. The top of the scale was reached last week.

A voice sounding like Stephen Hawkings’ sister informed me that: “Due to fraudulent activity on your part an arrest warrant has been issued in your name. Press 1 for more details. Thank you.’’

This sign-off was the most inappropriate end to a message since Her Majesty bid kind regards in her latest missive to Harry and Meghan.

All the above messages receive, ultimately, the same response from me. They are ignored. But what about the old and vulnerable, I asked my daughter.

“Dad, you are the old and vulnerable,” she said, with 100 per cent accuracy that had no room for a tad of tact.

It led me to think of the more credulous and more fragile in the community. Daily news reports bristle of the success of such scams. Honest lives are ruined.

Money leaks into the ether with scant chance of retribution. The scammers are more flexible than the long arm of the law.

There may be a legal if tedious purpose to the mundane canvasser or tele-seller. There is genuine evil in the scammer in both intent and the targeting of their victims. The price is not just an end of the innocence of victims or even the plundering of the savings of those unfortunates.

The bill that has to be paid is the increasing cynicism and gently pulsating anxiety of those who know that perdition may just be a call away and that new technology can be difficult to police.

The motivation of the criminal is easy to explain but what of our responses? How do we address that anxiety? How do we meet the invasion of personal security? Is it the first intimation of how cybercrime is easily pursued with the realisation that the more sophisticated practitioners are operating at a much higher level? Is just a part of the trade-off with a brutal new world?

The crudity of the scam caller is the broadsword of criminality. The weapons of the top-level hackers are more ingenious and subtle but all the new tech criminals share at least two traits.

They want money and they have information, even if it is only something as trivial as your phone number. And mine.

There is a way to complain about the constant ringing. Ofcom will take one’s call. The Information Commissioner’s Office is helpful.

But, for me, wedded to journalism and the need to be available to all...well, it seems that the scammer may always be on the end of the line.

This is not an expression of resignation. I will continue to report the rogue numbers. I will make the calls to the authorities. Or I will once my phone stops ringing.

There is a way to complain about the constant ringing. Go to Ofcom or the Information Commissioner