Jay, you are simply wrong.

It is industry standard practice in telephone and Internet banking to ask for 2-3 randomly selected characters from the customer’s password as part of the identity verification process.

Asking for the whole password would be a different matter entirely, but that is not what we are talking about here.

This sort of thing annoys me.

John – ask your bank which of the Data Protection Principles they consider they would be violating if they dealt with your issue without you first providing all of the information they ask for.

Let us know what they say.

I presume that your bank asked you to provide the answers to a number of “security questions” (eg, mother’s maiden name, name of first pet, etc) when you opened the account.

Correct responses to these questions, together with providing correct DOB and address details should be all of the verification that the bank needs.

What induces apoplectic fits in the bulk of the population is when it is reported that judges almost continuously, find in favour of the perpetrator rather than the victim.

John,

If judges were almost continuously finding in favour of the perpetrator in the way in which you suggest then common sense tells us that the majority of defendants would be acquitted.

Do you have any evidence to show that this is the case?

I am by nature a merciful man, so I won’t dwell on the rather nasty xenophobic aspect of the second part of your posting. Unless, of course, you can produce evidence to show that a majority of “serial rapist/murderer/burglar/car thief/fraudsters” are not native to these shores.

Do you have any evidence to show that this is the case?

Ever been there? 😉

“Unbelievable” is the word that springs to my mind too.

It wasn’t in my bathroom.

It was tidily and conveniently stored inside a length of 1.5″ plastic pipe that just happened to be leaning against my bedside table at the time.

And yes, it was. 🙂

…so back to the thread..anyone else witnessed their home being burgled??:eek:

Oh, indeed.

I once awoke in the middle of the night to find someone’s arm through the small bathroom window all the way up to the shoulder, groping for the catch on the larger window.

You should have heard the racket Mr Scrote made when I grabbed the thumb, twisted the wrist back and then laid into the elbow with a plastic pipe loaded with split fishing shot.

And the language! 😮

You could achieve much the same effect by visiting Port Talbot…… 😎