TELECOM HORROR COMPETITION

Is there anybody there?

Kenneth Scott, the winner of a K2 red telephone box in our competition, found that making a telephone call took up all his

holiday. Louis Jebb reports.

Mr Kenneth Scott of Richmond Heights, Ohio was born and bred in Edinburgh, and last August he and his wife rented a cottage in Peebles for the last week of their summer holiday. From his experiences, Mr Scott constructed an im- mensely long narrative, which is summa- rised here.

Thanks to the profligacy of previous tenants the house had a telephone on which calls could be received but not made. Arriving in Peebles on a Saturday,. the Scotts, wishing to communicate their telephone number to friends, went to look for a public telephone.

The first telephone they found was in a Jubilee kiosk in the centre of the High Street. Seeing that a girl using the tele- phone had begun a long chat with her boyfriend, they found in Northgate another red kiosk with its door-closer broken. Entering the Northgate kiosk Mr Scott realised that he had left a friend's telephone number at the cottage. The kiosk had no telephone directories and no indication of a number for directory in- quiries. He happened to know and remem- ber that the number he needed was 192, and received an answer on the sixth attempt. Having found the number he needed, he discovered that the coin box was jammed.

Out on the streets again the Scotts discovered two shiny British Telecom pub- lic telephones in a corner by the post office. Mr Scott was excited to find that one of them was a Phonecard telephone, but dismayed to find it had no handset. Mr Scott recalled an advertisement in the directory describing the Phonecard as `Short change for vandals', since 'most laid-up payphones are like that because they've been robbed or jammed with bent coins. There's no money in a Phonecard phone. So you're less likely to find a broken one.' The neighbouring machine was an up-to-the-minute 'blue' telephone which flashed a message '999 calls only', would not accept coins, and would not allow calls to the operator.

On Sunday morning Mr Scott found the High Street kiosk free and reported the condition of the Northgate and post office telephones to the operator, who promised to pass the information to British Tele- com's repair service. On the same tele- phone he and his wife made a call to her mother in Connecticut, which was termin- ated when the box ceased accepting coins after they had inserted £1.70. On Monday morning British Telecom Repair Service rang the cottage and asked Mrs Scott if they had reported their tele- phone out of order. She said they had not and, as she replaced the receiver, Mr Scott realised that he had unintentionally given their number as one of the telephones out of order. Wishing to remedy the confusion, he found in the directory a number, 95151, for the 'local fault repair service' for Peebles. At the High Street Kiosk, Mr Scott rang 95151. He could hear them but could not make himself heard. After being connected by the operator, he was able to report the numbers and locations of the faulty telephones.

Returning home via the 'post office that evening, Mr Scott noticed that the card telephone had a handset and the 'blue phone' now welcomed calls and money. He rang the cottage on the card phone. He could hear his wife, but she could not hear him.

On Tuesday morning, Mr Scott went to ring 95151. On both post office telephones and the High Street kiosk he was con- nected to the fault repair service but could not make himself heard. He writes, I found myself recalling the experiences of an American anaesthetist by the name of Scott Smith who, in the mid-Forties, had bravely volunteered to undergo a process known as `conscious curarisation.' This involved having a colleague inject him with increasing amounts of a purified form of the South American arrow poison, curare, a drug which paralyses all skeletal muscles. The end result, graphically reported later by Dr Smith, was that he became totally paralysed with no

power to move, talk, breathe, blink, or signal in any way while remaining fully conscious.

Finding Northgate coin box still jam- med, he walked to the Old Town and found a new call-box where he got through but could not be heard. To make himself heard he had again to be connected by the operator. The repair service assured him every detail would be reported without delay. In the evening the Scotts telephoned Connecticut on the card phone and could not make themselves heard.

On Wednesday the Scotts saw a Telecom repair man working on the handset of the card phone. On Thursday Mr Scott tele- phoned 95151 once more. On the Post Office telephones and the Old Town tele- phone he was connected but could not make himself heard; the High Street tele- phone rejected all coins; the Northgate telephone had been unjammed, but six attempts at dialling 95151 produced no clicks and no ringing tone. in 'sheer frustration' Mr Scott made a 12-minute walk to a public telephone he had noticed in the Edinburgh Road. With this tele- phone and the telephone in the Tourist Information Office he again got no ringing tone. 'Clearly', Mr Scott writes, 'an escala- tion was in order.'

Mr Scott found the number for the Area Manager in Telephone House, Edinburgh. The High Street box would not accept coins, but he was connected by the oper- ator. Here he was referred to a Freephone number for the Control Centre for Area Engineers. At this number he was referred to 151, the Edinburgh repair service num- ber, and, questioning this, to 95151, since, the engineer said, he was responsible only for 'brand new installations.'

On Friday morning Mr Scott rang the Area Manager's Office again, from a card phone in Princes Street, Edinburgh. Hav- ing first been put through to silence he spoke to a polite man in the Service Engineers Division who gave every indica- tion that he was listening and taking notes and assured Mr Scott of attention.

On Saturday morning Mr Scott went to ring 95151. The card phone produced no flashing figures, no tone and no 'Dial Now' sign, and rejected the phonecard. At this moment, telephone vandalism seemed an `alarmingly attractive proposition' to Mr Scott. The neighbouring 'blue phone' had reverted to '999 calls only'.

The High Street telephone was entirely dead and Mr Scott then resorted to the Northgate kiosk. A clear voice answered, `Telephone repair service.' But the 'ser- vice' could not hear him.

By then it was time for Mr Scott to return to America. When the Spectator tried to telephone him to tell him of his prize, we discovered his, number was ex- directory.