When I hit fifty last year I seemed to develop my own personal version of Tourette’s Syndrome. Having previously been a fairly reserved person who, on the whole, let things pass her by unremarked upon, I suddenly found that I was speaking my mind on almost every subject, but particularly on subjects that annoyed me.

Only last week I sought out the manager in my local supermarket. I couldn’t understand why the shelves were crammed full of New Zealand lamb when our own English fields are overflowing with sheep of every description. Driving over Wandsworth Bridge yesterday I subsequently emailed my MP to demand why, when there are two perfectly good cycle lanes on the extra-wide pavements, cyclists still insist on using the road, causing me, in my car, to attempt involuntary suicide in order to avoid them. And this morning I found myself banging on my neighbour’s door having finally lost patience with their barking dog waking me up every morning well before I am ready.

When it comes to dealing with writers I try to keep my patience, I really do. Giving advice, after all, is my livelihood and, having recently launched a dedicated advice line, you would think that, on the other end of the line, I am the soul of patience and gentle wisdom. Most of the time I am (because most of the time my callers are genuine, lovely people who simply want a sensible answer to a sensible question), but sometimes, SOMETIMES, I just can’t help myself. Sometimes the sheer stupidity and tedium of the calls I receive drive the blood to my brain and a tetchy sigh to my lips. So here they are. Twenty reasons to be angry:-

Call 1: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, I’ve wrote this book’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 2: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, I’ve written this book. Do you want to publish it?’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 3: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, my book could be enjoyed by anyone from newborn babies to teenagers.’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 4: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, I’ve come up with this really original concept about a squirrel called Cyril.’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 5: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, I’ve written the next Harry Potter. It’s called ‘Harriet Totter & the Psychotherapist’s Pebble’.’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 6: ‘Hello Ms Corner. That IS Helen Corner from Cornerstones isn’t it?’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 7: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, no I’m afraid I can’t tell you what my story is about. You might steal it!’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 8: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, I thought your appraisal of my manuscript was rubbish. I think it’s brilliant.’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 9: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, I thought your appraisal of my manuscript was rubbish. My niece thinks it’s brilliant.’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 10: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, I’ve been rejected by every publisher and agent in The Children’s Writers’ & Artists’ Yearbook. Can you help me?’ Tetchy sigh – although I probably can.

Call 11: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, my manuscript has been with Top Literary Agency Inc. for three years. Do you think I’m still in with a chance?’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 12: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, I’m thinking Quentin Blake as my illustrator and Disney to make the film. You can guarantee that, right?’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 13: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, yes I want to write for children. No I never read children’s books. Why do you ask?’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 14: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, can you read and advise on my 600,000 word trilogy? What do you mean you charge a fee?’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 15: ‘Hello Ms Gordon…’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 16: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, I’m sending over my manuscript in a safe, accompanied by a non-disclosure agreement and David Cameron’s outriders.’ Tetchy sigh…although just very slightly impressed.

Call 17: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, how come you haven’t returned my calls? No I didn’t leave my number.’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 18: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, it’s more than just a book I’m offering. My sister’s done the illustrations, my granny’s knitted the toys and my uncle has promised to stock it in his paper shop.’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 19: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, my three year-old son, Sean, has written a poem and his teacher says it should be published.’ Tetchy sigh.

Call 20: ‘Hello Ms Jordan, I’m Sean’s teacher and I’ve wrote this book…’

Slam down the phone. Enough!

(With thanks to Sarah Davies who wrote the original, much funnier, version of this blog on her site www.greenhouseliterary.com. Although I should point out that all the above queries are ones that I’ve received personally – albeit with a bit of poetic licence thrown in!)