I needed to order something costing £8.68 off the Web. No problem - I filled in all the necessary boxes and proceeded effortlessly on to Pay. The sun in my personal heaven continued to shine. I told the site who I was, backed up by my email, the numbers on my card and the fact that I was not a robot. I wonder about that; all it needs is a tick in a box. Surely any robot clever enough to negotiate all the previous hurdles would not be baulked by a mere tick? Full of pride at my prowess I clicked Pay Now. Immediately Banco Santander muscled rudely in and filled the entire page with demands to know who I was, and why did I need to bankrupt the bank with my ureasonable demands for £8.68 - of my money! And better do it quick, it added, you have only got 6 minutes to convince the Bank that they have to part with this king’s ransom, or else! But Ha! I had all the necessary to access my account to the tune of £8.68! Then the phone warbled. Message. Santander wanted me to put my clave de acceso in the box. I wasn’t falling unprepared for that one - I had it to hand, so I did. Continue, it urged. Obediently I clicked in the required place - Error - This page does not exist. Heaving a martyred sigh I went back to the beginning, which necessitated ordering all over again, and once more assuring the site that I was not a robot. The result remained the same - Continue continued to maintain that this page did not exist. In all I went through this charade 4 times before deciding to call Santander’s bluff. I went into Albox to get this nonsense sorted out by someone who has insider influence. It is not possible in this new improved bank to see someone unless you have taken a numbered ticket. I did, and waited 45 minutes for it to be my turn to pass my problem on to the ever helpful and very dapper Viktor. Between us we went through the entire process from the beginning with no problem, including the details of the card and assurances that neither of us were a robot. The phone warbled again. Fill in the clave de acceso, it demanded. We did. Error, it chortled. Viktor took the phone and went through the rigmarole all over again. Error, the phone said, adding maliciously ‘You’re not getting round me that easily.’ In all we struggled on man and womanfully for an hour and a quarter to no avail. By this time Viktor’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets and his English was accelerating and becoming more Spanish by the minute. Not wishing this blameless bank employee to suffer a nervous breakdown at his desk I suggested we leave it. ‘Come back again tomorrow, and bring your laptop.’ He bleated in desperation. Arriving back home I decided to give it one last chance. Error! it giggled. I looked at the phone with murder in my heart. Knowing that I might regret my actions later I took the phone and smacked it hard on the table. And there it was - transaction completed! Motto: If at first you don’t succeed try physical violence!