A FEW weeks ago, I was fulminating about the plethora of uninvited daily telephone calls from people the world over trying to part me from my hard-earned cash

But in a classic reversal of the boy who cried wolf legend, last week I hung up three times on a lady purporting to be from the fraud department of my bank.

It was only when I finally answered the phone in order to give the persistent caller a few choice words that I was finally convinced the call was genuine.

The initial call came at a bad time, for I had only just put the phone down on some Bollywood actress purporting to be from Microsoft, informing me that there was a major problem with my computer that could only be solved by giving her unrestricted access to my bank account.

I fear I was somewhat terse with her, as she had interrupted a vivid dream about me winning the Lottery, and Mrs Hextol raised an admonitory eyebrow at my ripe language before I slammed the phone down.

It was still quivering when the phone rang again, and I snatched it up in a fury, assuming it was Deepika Padukone back for second helpings.

Instead, it was a lady allegedly from Lloyds Bank, urging me to call an unfamiliar number to discuss some supposedly suspicious activity on my current account.

I reached new heights of invective in my robust response and was actually quite disappointed that my rhetoric had been wasted on a recorded message.

I once again tested the robustness of the handset, and felt vindicated when I put the number into Google, and was assured by several previous recipients of calls from this number that it was a scam.

The supposed scammer rang back on two more occasions, and I declined to pick up the phone, but I finally cracked when the caller rang again, and I followed the instructions, so I could vent my spleen on a human.

The person I spoke to was Scottish, which made a change from the sing-song tones of the Far East, and I listened to her preamble about being from the fraud detection service, and that a couple of recent transactions made via my bank card had been deemed suspicious.

“Is the card still in your possessions sir?” she asked, and I prepared myself to be asked for the long number of the card, security number and the rest.

“Do you think I came down in the last shower?” I barked. “I am sick of you rogues trying to con people with your sleazy scams, You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Before I could put the resilience of the handset to the test once more, she said: “I can understand your scepticism sir, but I can assure you this is a genuine call. I don’t want to know your card number - I just want to know whether you have made two payments of £10 to a firm called Giff Gaff in the last few days.

“I also need to know whether you have tried to make a payment to American Schools.”

I had done no such thing, as I had never heard of either organisation, and assured her of that in firm tones, still waiting to see what the scam would be,

She then rather took the wind out of my sails by seeking confirmation that I made purchases the day before at Aldi, Tesco and Poundstretcher in Hexham,wanting to know roughly the amount spent in each outlet.

That convinced me the call really was genuine, but Mrs Hextol is cut from much more suspicious cloth, and was mouthing vehemently at me to hang up, crying : “It’s a con; it’s a con; she’s going to clean the account out.”

In the meantime though my Caledonian chum informed me that my card had now been cancelled, and a new one would arrive by post in the next few days.

She could offer no explanation as to how a card which had never left my possession could have been misused by miscreants, and also kept mum on how two fraudulent transactions for trifling sums should have set alarm bells ringing, while a much heftier sum paid in the Caribbean for Mrs Hextol’s 50th anniversary gift went through on the nod.

We spent a troubled couple of days checking our online bank statement hourly for transactions which were not ours, and only breathed a sigh of relief when the promised new bank card arrived.