The DT’s logic in setting up a pay wall only for its overseas readers is incomprehensible to me, but I reluctantly decided that I had to subscribe. I need the DT to provide balance against the Guardian. That’s especially important while I’m here in Canada, because if I only get news of Blighty from the Grauniad, I’ll end up thinking Britain is on the verge of a socialist revolution, while starving children are selling matches on street corners. Secondly, my old mum reads the DT, and if I don’t read it too, she blindsides me in arguments by telling me that the Telegraph says that old ladies cannot leave their homes without being mugged by Romanian gypsy beggar asylum seekers. Also, to be fair, their personal finance pages are rather good, and anything Charles Moore has to say is usually interesting.
At £2 a month it’s not bad value, so this morning I started filling in the web-form and half an hour later I’d succeeded in becoming a subscriber. My first attempt was rejected because I hadn’t provided a “valid” mobile phone number. This was because I don’t use a mobile phone. 00001042012 worked, but my second attempt was rejected because my email address was already registered. It took me a few minutes to realise that this probably dates back to a cheap wine offer that my mum signed me up to several years ago. Of course I can no longer remember my password, so I had to go through the lost password procedure. Next problem was that, due to the said wine offer, the DT believes I’m resident in the UK, and although the form allowed me to fill in every other part of my Canadian address, it would not allow me to change the country from the UK to Canada, and then rejected my postcode because it was not “valid”. So, I gave my mum’s postcode and that worked. I celebrated by reading the ghastly Delingpole, whose rhetorical style reminds me of the kind of cretinous braying drunk I used to overhear in City of London wine bars, but always makes me laugh.