There are some advertising slogans that strike a chord and stay with you for life.

“Naughty but nice” my gran used to say, whenever she brought out the cream buns.

And what girl hasn’t muttered the words “because I’m worth it” when indulging in some retail therapy she can’t really afford?

But there’s one advertising phrase that, in my mind, hasn’t caught on. That’s probably because there’s no such thing as “helpful banking”.

There are several words I called my bank when I opened a letter informing me they were charging me £35 for refusing a £2.38 direct debit – “helpful” wasn’t one of them.

I have been with my bank for nearly 25 years and, apart from six months at journalism college, I have been in constant full-time work. I’ve fed a monthly salary into my account for a quarter of a century and, over the years, the bank has made a bit out of me, what with loan interest and those pesky add-on ‘protection’ charges they talked me into.

We have generally got along quite well, my bank and I, but lately our relationship has curdled. Like a bored married couple limping towards their silver wedding anniversary, we don’t have anything in common anymore. Maybe we need to go on a ‘make-or-break’ weekend to talk it through.

Things came to a head last week when I got home from work, tired and grumpy after crawling for 90 minutes from Bradford to Shipley in standstill traffic, and opened the bank’s “helpful” letter refusing to exceed my overdraft limit by two pounds.

It wasn’t even my fault. I’d recently set up a payment arrangement with a broadband provider and they’d chosen the day before pay day to take out an initial charge prior to regular direct debits, despite me requesting a later date.

The bank flatly refused to release £2.38, even though I was being paid next day, then charged me £35 for doing so. I was so frustrated I actually cried.

On the adverts, banks have a cosy, matey relationship with their customers. They appreciate all the hours they put in at work, how they go the extra mile and try and live a decent life, and they even reward them with little extras to show how much they care.

In reality, unless you’re a valued customer with a fat salary and masses of savings, banks couldn’t care less. When it comes to longstanding loyalty, they’re as indifferent as insurance companies.

It’s time banks adopted a more honest advertising catchline. How about the one that Millwall and Leeds football fans like to chant: “No-one likes us, we don’t care.”