My voice is my password

Cat in a deep snooze as I sell off my future via a remote recording device hidden down the phone line.

Hurricane (insert latest name here) passes through Fife as calmly as the traffic on the Queensferry Crossing.

Phrases to fall asleep to: I have a new mantra. According to the robotic conversation I had with the robot tax man I can now and forever rely upon my voice being my password as it's tone and rhythm has now been recorded and processed on some contracted out government IT system in Russia. All you do is repeat the phrase "my voice is my password" for about a minute and the magic is done (chug, whirr!) and you're set for a lifetime of access to hearing that your tax code is probably correct but if it's not then an adjustment will take place in the next tax year that will cause your eyes to water ever so slightly.