This is Emma Speaking speaking...

During an unwanted and unenjoyable ultra-brief stint as a receptionist at my place of work I received a call from a delightfully-sounding young female.

"Hello, this is Emma speaking," she said.

"Hello!" I said. "Would you be related to Sally Speaking at all? She called me earlier on."

"Pardon?"

I repeated that I had received a call from a Sally Speaking earlier on. Funnily enough, this was the second Emma I had spoken to also, the previous one having being named Emma Calling...

"Oh no," said this new Emma, "I'm just telling you that my name is Emma and that I am speaking, as far as I am aware I am not related to Sally Speaking."

"Of course you're speaking, my dear," I told her. "As soon as I heard your voice I could tell you were speaking, so there is no need to inform me of the fact. It's rather like those people who write letters that begin with 'I am writing to you'. Obviously that is what they are doing so why do they feel the need to emphasise the fact?"

"Oh right..."

"The only occasion you would have to tell me that you are speaking is if I were deaf... but then I wouldn't be able to hear you. You could in that case, of course, write a note to let me know that you are speaking. yet I still wouldn't be able to hear what you are saying... unless you wrote down everything that you were saying!"

"If you say so..."

"I do! Anyway, what can I do for you?"

"Okay," she said, "as I told you, my name is Emma. Is this the **** supermarket?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, no it isn't. This is the Ice Rink, Emma."

"Oh dear, wrong number. Sorry!"

"Don't be. Have a lovely day!"

"Goodbye." Click.

I fooled her. This was the **** supermarket!

(With thanks to Beachcomber in the Daily Express)