Sounding off

We've got mail: Ripped off? Stunned by good value? Write, text or blog your experience to us.

An inspector calls

In the 1970s, we were led to believe that a crack squad of TV licence inspectors who looked a bit like the A-Team were roaming the country in the back of a HiAce with sophisticated sensors in the back for detecting a license-less home from miles away. Some 30 years on and the machine seems to be on the blink, as one Dublin reader has discovered.

George Partridge contacted us after being unable to shake off the TV licence collection people in his area. They have been in regular contact with him since the beginning of the year, despite the fact that he doesn't have a television. He has received numerous letters and at least one surprise visit from an inspector, even though he gave his television away to a friend more than two years ago. He now uses his computer on the rare occasions he watches DVDs or downloads programmes from the internet.

It was this flickering light which the TV-licence man saw when he called round recently. To try and bring an end to the saga, Partridge invited the keen-eyed inspector in, showed him the computer and the long-since disconnected TV cables and, as the inspector seemed happy with the state of affairs, assumed that would be the end of the matter.

Not so - the letters keep coming, and he would like An Post to stop harassing him for money he does not owe them. Apparently, there is not much that he can do. While the site visit should ensure he doesn't get a letter for a while, he can expect to get a letter asking whether he has a licence within six to 12 months. A spokeswoman said that such letters were automatically generated each year. "Once you are on the system the letters are automatically generated if you don't have a licence. If he replies when he gets the mail, and says his circumstances have not changed, than that should be sufficient," she said. But who'll pay for the stamp, we wonder.

The pricy simple things in life

Kenneth Lyons sent a mail asking us to highlight the sometimes ridiculous price disparities for the "simple things" in Dublin city centre.

"Take the apple as an example," he writes. "A simple fruit, yet I was charged €0.79 in one Dublin city-centre shop and in another shop, just one minute's walk away, I was charged €0.49 for the same product."

He says that such price disparities are becoming more commonplace. "In my opinion, it's time for action and to name and shame these opportunists," he writes.

Kiwi conundrum

Philip Lough also wants to talk about the price of fruit. He was in the Blackrock branch of Superquinn recently where he was disappointed with their pricing policy for Kiwis. "Loose kiwis were €0.40 each," he writes, "but there was a 'special' on where six kiwis could be had for €2.49. The posters at the stall made much of the fact that this meant consumers were getting two free kiwis."

Not so, he says, and points out that if six individually purchased kiwis cost €2.40 and six packaged kiwis, which are supposed to be on special, cost €2.49 than Superquinn is guilty of misleading advertising. He queried it with an assistant manager who told him that the loose kiwis were also on special - down from a normal price of €0.50 each. and this offer was unrelated to the six for the price of four deal in packaged fruit.

We contacted the store and they told us much the same thing. We were told that there were two types of kiwi fruit for sale in the store. "The pre-packed kiwi fruits are different from the loose variety in that they are slightly larger and hand-picked for Superquinn by the supplier to ensure quality," a spokeswoman said, hence the higher price. Incidentally, a free kiwi spoon - whatever that is - is also included in the deal.