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letter of complaint

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Tekton
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« Reply #150 on: February 21, 2009, 14:53:12 »

To all the good people at British Gas boiler services;

Bonjour motherfuckers,

Would you be so kind as to extricate your excessively large posteriors from your comfy office chairs, and come and fix my boiler? In the coldest month of the year, to live without central heating is not any sentient individual's idea of what consitutes fun. I realise that there is tea to be imbibed and day old copies of the Metro to be perused, but as your star customer my needs come first, I must inform you.

What I dream of in Brown's Britain of 2009, is an engineer who has it within his limited mental capacities to speedily deliver himself in the direction of my "yard" in order to repair, for the third time this year, my consumptive incapacitated boiler. I would like this engineer to arrive - get this - on time, at a pre-appointed hour - none of this between 11 and 6 fuckery - and complete said task with speed and efficiency, and in such a way that it does not break down again. Is this really such a big ask of persons such as yourselves for whom boiler repair and maintenance is in fact a full time profession?

If this is not possible then unfortunately it will become necessary for me to kill you.

I look forward to your reply,

yours in anger

Benjamin Isiah Van Diesel


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« Reply #151 on: February 21, 2009, 16:42:29 »


Bonjour motherfuckers,


This is without doubt the greatest opening of any letter........ever
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« Reply #152 on: February 21, 2009, 16:56:33 »


Bonjour motherfuckers,


This is without doubt the greatest opening of any letter........ever

Thanks, I must admit I'm pretty proud of that bit.
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[flash=800,80]   forward for this by benjblackmore [/flash]
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« Reply #153 on: March 10, 2009, 13:26:01 »

A recent letter sent by one self (admittedly not to the sheer quality of Benj's letters) to C E X customer services.

Dear Corporate Fascists

I for one am tired of your intricate corporate schemes to outset further depression in this already 'Credit Crunched' era of Great Britain. Ploys of cheap second hand deals are no longer enough to affect my mindset towards this Emo-ridden travesty of a company.

I am no longer jaded by your cheap deals to look through rose-tinted spectacles as though I am suffering from severe Astigmatism. This is a corporate venture if ever I saw one. To employ the most Myopic staff available to the planet, with the combined brain power of an amoeba is simply shocking, and not just co-incidence. All dressed in what must be a dress-code of Emo-Fallout, with less customer service skills than a bunch of sloth’s brought down with a mixture of Narcolepsy, Alzheimer’s, ADHD AND general retardation is not just an accident. This is a carefully worked master-plan amongst your fat-cat board which has become all to apparent.

Coupled with the deafening tripe blaring across the speakers, I have noticed, nay, certified with the fact that you are tied within the music business. Which label you are tied to remains a mystery for me, but no shop without a serious take over plan would play such abominations as Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Blink 182 and Jimmy Eat World whilst painstakingly waiting in a 5 deep queue for half an hour only to be served by an ignorant cretin with the immediate plan of serving further misery to an already traumatized customer. Having been forced to listen to half an hours worth of sonic atrocities whilst standing in a queue, taking in the sights of chav-mums in the street, buses constantly breaking down, and other scenic panorama, only for my day-dreaming to be shattered in to a thousand pieces by the shrill whinging of some scrawny American crying about the break up of his friends girlfriend. Remember in cartoons, when a person sings in too high pitched a voice, and the mirror/glass breaks? It feels like that. I suppose most of your budget goes into the windows, so that they can be re-enforced and not break from these high-pitched atrocities. Also to stop customers from throwing themselves into said panes of glass.

Lest I digress.

After thirty minutes of pure misery served by a mixture of pure inability from your staff, alongside the worst Warner Bros. has to offer in terms of fingernails running against a blackboard (sorry, I meant music), I am greeted in often fantastic terms by your Nuclear fallout (sorry, staff). Such pinnacles of customer service have often been introduced with a rather heavily exaggerated sigh, followed by a hatred filled glare so blatant that one must have thought they had just envisioned Hitler conjoined with Peter Sutcliffe. After grumbling/barking 'What Do You Want?' they will make sure they further the disappointment of the customer, usually by offending them. Such greats include 'I'm not serving you, your too young' In which instance, I have pulled out valid ID declaring I'm 20, only for them to debate the existence of the 1st April 1988, and trying to convince me that I was actually born in a paradox, and that 1st April 1988 ever existed (though in more crude terms, such as 'F**k off, you weren't born then'). Another such instance occurred a few weeks later, when another employee, team leader no less, laughed at my ID and declared 'I looked like a girl', of which he managed to shout over some Warner Bros. employee shite whinging about his mate's girlfriend whilst having a cry-wank, to alert the whole store. Of which I find that offensive for two reasons. First being ever so slightly obvious, in the fact that you don't really expect to be insulted in front of the general public on an average shopping trip, and as a result, twas a tad annoyed. Secondly, I do not expect to be insulted by Chernobyl victims. If you have ever seen The Hills Have Eyes, bingo.

Having suffered depression for nigh on thirty minutes, I have found this whole shopping excursion too depressing, and seek to drown my sorrows with a pint or two.

So this is your ploy, you must be constantly having hand-shandies over the CCTV images from every store, as your customers line your pockets, before walking home in depression, only to buy emo music which you will have share in, or diverting to emo-pubs which will only serve pints of depression (so your probably tied with Scottish and Newcastle as well). I for one will not be allowing you to wank over images of my depressed self any longer.

Yours in Combat
Joseph Goldsworthy
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« Reply #154 on: March 10, 2009, 14:21:58 »

A recent letter sent by one self (admittedly not to the sheer quality of Benj's letters) to C E X customer services.

Dear Corporate Fascists

I for one am tired of your intricate corporate schemes to outset further depression in this already 'Credit Crunched' era of Great Britain. Ploys of cheap second hand deals are no longer enough to affect my mindset towards this Emo-ridden travesty of a company.

I am no longer jaded by your cheap deals to look through rose-tinted spectacles as though I am suffering from severe Astigmatism. This is a corporate venture if ever I saw one. To employ the most Myopic staff available to the planet, with the combined brain power of an amoeba is simply shocking, and not just co-incidence. All dressed in what must be a dress-code of Emo-Fallout, with less customer service skills than a bunch of sloth’s brought down with a mixture of Narcolepsy, Alzheimer’s, ADHD AND general retardation is not just an accident. This is a carefully worked master-plan amongst your fat-cat board which has become all to apparent.

Coupled with the deafening tripe blaring across the speakers, I have noticed, nay, certified with the fact that you are tied within the music business. Which label you are tied to remains a mystery for me, but no shop without a serious take over plan would play such abominations as Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Blink 182 and Jimmy Eat World whilst painstakingly waiting in a 5 deep queue for half an hour only to be served by an ignorant cretin with the immediate plan of serving further misery to an already traumatized customer. Having been forced to listen to half an hours worth of sonic atrocities whilst standing in a queue, taking in the sights of chav-mums in the street, buses constantly breaking down, and other scenic panorama, only for my day-dreaming to be shattered in to a thousand pieces by the shrill whinging of some scrawny American crying about the break up of his friends girlfriend. Remember in cartoons, when a person sings in too high pitched a voice, and the mirror/glass breaks? It feels like that. I suppose most of your budget goes into the windows, so that they can be re-enforced and not break from these high-pitched atrocities. Also to stop customers from throwing themselves into said panes of glass.

Lest I digress.

After thirty minutes of pure misery served by a mixture of pure inability from your staff, alongside the worst Warner Bros. has to offer in terms of fingernails running against a blackboard (sorry, I meant music), I am greeted in often fantastic terms by your Nuclear fallout (sorry, staff). Such pinnacles of customer service have often been introduced with a rather heavily exaggerated sigh, followed by a hatred filled glare so blatant that one must have thought they had just envisioned Hitler conjoined with Peter Sutcliffe. After grumbling/barking 'What Do You Want?' they will make sure they further the disappointment of the customer, usually by offending them. Such greats include 'I'm not serving you, your too young' In which instance, I have pulled out valid ID declaring I'm 20, only for them to debate the existence of the 1st April 1988, and trying to convince me that I was actually born in a paradox, and that 1st April 1988 ever existed (though in more crude terms, such as 'F**k off, you weren't born then'). Another such instance occurred a few weeks later, when another employee, team leader no less, laughed at my ID and declared 'I looked like a girl', of which he managed to shout over some Warner Bros. employee shite whinging about his mate's girlfriend whilst having a cry-wank, to alert the whole store. Of which I find that offensive for two reasons. First being ever so slightly obvious, in the fact that you don't really expect to be insulted in front of the general public on an average shopping trip, and as a result, twas a tad annoyed. Secondly, I do not expect to be insulted by Chernobyl victims. If you have ever seen The Hills Have Eyes, bingo.

Having suffered depression for nigh on thirty minutes, I have found this whole shopping excursion too depressing, and seek to drown my sorrows with a pint or two.

So this is your ploy, you must be constantly having hand-shandies over the CCTV images from every store, as your customers line your pockets, before walking home in depression, only to buy emo music which you will have share in, or diverting to emo-pubs which will only serve pints of depression (so your probably tied with Scottish and Newcastle as well). I for one will not be allowing you to wank over images of my depressed self any longer.

Yours in Combat
Joseph Goldsworthy

Wow, you really hate getting IDd. 

I once got IDd for 37p Morrisons paracetomol a few weeks before my 26th birthday.  If it weren't for the lack of supervisor around, I don't think the woman would have served me them despite having me having valid ID.  I found the whole thing so confusing I didn't even manage an eloquently worded letter of outrage.
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« Reply #155 on: March 10, 2009, 14:32:56 »

A recent letter sent by one self (admittedly not to the sheer quality of Benj's letters) to C E X customer services.

Dear Corporate Fascists

I for one am tired of your intricate corporate schemes to outset further depression in this already 'Credit Crunched' era of Great Britain. Ploys of cheap second hand deals are no longer enough to affect my mindset towards this Emo-ridden travesty of a company.

I am no longer jaded by your cheap deals to look through rose-tinted spectacles as though I am suffering from severe Astigmatism. This is a corporate venture if ever I saw one. To employ the most Myopic staff available to the planet, with the combined brain power of an amoeba is simply shocking, and not just co-incidence. All dressed in what must be a dress-code of Emo-Fallout, with less customer service skills than a bunch of sloth’s brought down with a mixture of Narcolepsy, Alzheimer’s, ADHD AND general retardation is not just an accident. This is a carefully worked master-plan amongst your fat-cat board which has become all to apparent.

Coupled with the deafening tripe blaring across the speakers, I have noticed, nay, certified with the fact that you are tied within the music business. Which label you are tied to remains a mystery for me, but no shop without a serious take over plan would play such abominations as Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Blink 182 and Jimmy Eat World whilst painstakingly waiting in a 5 deep queue for half an hour only to be served by an ignorant cretin with the immediate plan of serving further misery to an already traumatized customer. Having been forced to listen to half an hours worth of sonic atrocities whilst standing in a queue, taking in the sights of chav-mums in the street, buses constantly breaking down, and other scenic panorama, only for my day-dreaming to be shattered in to a thousand pieces by the shrill whinging of some scrawny American crying about the break up of his friends girlfriend. Remember in cartoons, when a person sings in too high pitched a voice, and the mirror/glass breaks? It feels like that. I suppose most of your budget goes into the windows, so that they can be re-enforced and not break from these high-pitched atrocities. Also to stop customers from throwing themselves into said panes of glass.

Lest I digress.

After thirty minutes of pure misery served by a mixture of pure inability from your staff, alongside the worst Warner Bros. has to offer in terms of fingernails running against a blackboard (sorry, I meant music), I am greeted in often fantastic terms by your Nuclear fallout (sorry, staff). Such pinnacles of customer service have often been introduced with a rather heavily exaggerated sigh, followed by a hatred filled glare so blatant that one must have thought they had just envisioned Hitler conjoined with Peter Sutcliffe. After grumbling/barking 'What Do You Want?' they will make sure they further the disappointment of the customer, usually by offending them. Such greats include 'I'm not serving you, your too young' In which instance, I have pulled out valid ID declaring I'm 20, only for them to debate the existence of the 1st April 1988, and trying to convince me that I was actually born in a paradox, and that 1st April 1988 ever existed (though in more crude terms, such as 'F**k off, you weren't born then'). Another such instance occurred a few weeks later, when another employee, team leader no less, laughed at my ID and declared 'I looked like a girl', of which he managed to shout over some Warner Bros. employee shite whinging about his mate's girlfriend whilst having a cry-wank, to alert the whole store. Of which I find that offensive for two reasons. First being ever so slightly obvious, in the fact that you don't really expect to be insulted in front of the general public on an average shopping trip, and as a result, twas a tad annoyed. Secondly, I do not expect to be insulted by Chernobyl victims. If you have ever seen The Hills Have Eyes, bingo.

Having suffered depression for nigh on thirty minutes, I have found this whole shopping excursion too depressing, and seek to drown my sorrows with a pint or two.

So this is your ploy, you must be constantly having hand-shandies over the CCTV images from every store, as your customers line your pockets, before walking home in depression, only to buy emo music which you will have share in, or diverting to emo-pubs which will only serve pints of depression (so your probably tied with Scottish and Newcastle as well). I for one will not be allowing you to wank over images of my depressed self any longer.

Yours in Combat
Joseph Goldsworthy

Wow, you really hate getting IDd. 

I once got IDd for 37p Morrisons paracetomol a few weeks before my 26th birthday.  If it weren't for the lack of supervisor around, I don't think the woman would have served me them despite having me having valid ID.  I found the whole thing so confusing I didn't even manage an eloquently worded letter of outrage.

It isn't the ID which gets me, just their inability to actually promote any level of customer service whatsoever

I get ID'd all the time Sad (especially when it is just rizla that I want to buy Cry )
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« Reply #156 on: March 10, 2009, 14:41:13 »

A recent letter sent by one self (admittedly not to the sheer quality of Benj's letters) to C E X customer services.

Dear Corporate Fascists

I for one am tired of your intricate corporate schemes to outset further depression in this already 'Credit Crunched' era of Great Britain. Ploys of cheap second hand deals are no longer enough to affect my mindset towards this Emo-ridden travesty of a company.

I am no longer jaded by your cheap deals to look through rose-tinted spectacles as though I am suffering from severe Astigmatism. This is a corporate venture if ever I saw one. To employ the most Myopic staff available to the planet, with the combined brain power of an amoeba is simply shocking, and not just co-incidence. All dressed in what must be a dress-code of Emo-Fallout, with less customer service skills than a bunch of sloth’s brought down with a mixture of Narcolepsy, Alzheimer’s, ADHD AND general retardation is not just an accident. This is a carefully worked master-plan amongst your fat-cat board which has become all to apparent.

Coupled with the deafening tripe blaring across the speakers, I have noticed, nay, certified with the fact that you are tied within the music business. Which label you are tied to remains a mystery for me, but no shop without a serious take over plan would play such abominations as Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Blink 182 and Jimmy Eat World whilst painstakingly waiting in a 5 deep queue for half an hour only to be served by an ignorant cretin with the immediate plan of serving further misery to an already traumatized customer. Having been forced to listen to half an hours worth of sonic atrocities whilst standing in a queue, taking in the sights of chav-mums in the street, buses constantly breaking down, and other scenic panorama, only for my day-dreaming to be shattered in to a thousand pieces by the shrill whinging of some scrawny American crying about the break up of his friends girlfriend. Remember in cartoons, when a person sings in too high pitched a voice, and the mirror/glass breaks? It feels like that. I suppose most of your budget goes into the windows, so that they can be re-enforced and not break from these high-pitched atrocities. Also to stop customers from throwing themselves into said panes of glass.

Lest I digress.

After thirty minutes of pure misery served by a mixture of pure inability from your staff, alongside the worst Warner Bros. has to offer in terms of fingernails running against a blackboard (sorry, I meant music), I am greeted in often fantastic terms by your Nuclear fallout (sorry, staff). Such pinnacles of customer service have often been introduced with a rather heavily exaggerated sigh, followed by a hatred filled glare so blatant that one must have thought they had just envisioned Hitler conjoined with Peter Sutcliffe. After grumbling/barking 'What Do You Want?' they will make sure they further the disappointment of the customer, usually by offending them. Such greats include 'I'm not serving you, your too young' In which instance, I have pulled out valid ID declaring I'm 20, only for them to debate the existence of the 1st April 1988, and trying to convince me that I was actually born in a paradox, and that 1st April 1988 ever existed (though in more crude terms, such as 'F**k off, you weren't born then'). Another such instance occurred a few weeks later, when another employee, team leader no less, laughed at my ID and declared 'I looked like a girl', of which he managed to shout over some Warner Bros. employee shite whinging about his mate's girlfriend whilst having a cry-wank, to alert the whole store. Of which I find that offensive for two reasons. First being ever so slightly obvious, in the fact that you don't really expect to be insulted in front of the general public on an average shopping trip, and as a result, twas a tad annoyed. Secondly, I do not expect to be insulted by Chernobyl victims. If you have ever seen The Hills Have Eyes, bingo.

Having suffered depression for nigh on thirty minutes, I have found this whole shopping excursion too depressing, and seek to drown my sorrows with a pint or two.

So this is your ploy, you must be constantly having hand-shandies over the CCTV images from every store, as your customers line your pockets, before walking home in depression, only to buy emo music which you will have share in, or diverting to emo-pubs which will only serve pints of depression (so your probably tied with Scottish and Newcastle as well). I for one will not be allowing you to wank over images of my depressed self any longer.

Yours in Combat
Joseph Goldsworthy

Wow, you really hate getting IDd. 

I once got IDd for 37p Morrisons paracetomol a few weeks before my 26th birthday.  If it weren't for the lack of supervisor around, I don't think the woman would have served me them despite having me having valid ID.  I found the whole thing so confusing I didn't even manage an eloquently worded letter of outrage.

It isn't the ID which gets me, just their inability to actually promote any level of customer service whatsoever

I get ID'd all the time Sad (especially when it is just rizla that I want to buy Cry )

Me to, it's the unfortunate price we pay for youthful looks.  Alas, when the knuckle dragging pram faces serving us are fourty they'll faces like a sun-dried baboon's arse and we'll still look in our 20's so chin up!  Two Thumbs
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« Reply #157 on: March 10, 2009, 14:45:20 »

A recent letter sent by one self (admittedly not to the sheer quality of Benj's letters) to C E X customer services.

Dear Corporate Fascists

I for one am tired of your intricate corporate schemes to outset further depression in this already 'Credit Crunched' era of Great Britain. Ploys of cheap second hand deals are no longer enough to affect my mindset towards this Emo-ridden travesty of a company.

I am no longer jaded by your cheap deals to look through rose-tinted spectacles as though I am suffering from severe Astigmatism. This is a corporate venture if ever I saw one. To employ the most Myopic staff available to the planet, with the combined brain power of an amoeba is simply shocking, and not just co-incidence. All dressed in what must be a dress-code of Emo-Fallout, with less customer service skills than a bunch of sloth’s brought down with a mixture of Narcolepsy, Alzheimer’s, ADHD AND general retardation is not just an accident. This is a carefully worked master-plan amongst your fat-cat board which has become all to apparent.

Coupled with the deafening tripe blaring across the speakers, I have noticed, nay, certified with the fact that you are tied within the music business. Which label you are tied to remains a mystery for me, but no shop without a serious take over plan would play such abominations as Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Blink 182 and Jimmy Eat World whilst painstakingly waiting in a 5 deep queue for half an hour only to be served by an ignorant cretin with the immediate plan of serving further misery to an already traumatized customer. Having been forced to listen to half an hours worth of sonic atrocities whilst standing in a queue, taking in the sights of chav-mums in the street, buses constantly breaking down, and other scenic panorama, only for my day-dreaming to be shattered in to a thousand pieces by the shrill whinging of some scrawny American crying about the break up of his friends girlfriend. Remember in cartoons, when a person sings in too high pitched a voice, and the mirror/glass breaks? It feels like that. I suppose most of your budget goes into the windows, so that they can be re-enforced and not break from these high-pitched atrocities. Also to stop customers from throwing themselves into said panes of glass.

Lest I digress.

After thirty minutes of pure misery served by a mixture of pure inability from your staff, alongside the worst Warner Bros. has to offer in terms of fingernails running against a blackboard (sorry, I meant music), I am greeted in often fantastic terms by your Nuclear fallout (sorry, staff). Such pinnacles of customer service have often been introduced with a rather heavily exaggerated sigh, followed by a hatred filled glare so blatant that one must have thought they had just envisioned Hitler conjoined with Peter Sutcliffe. After grumbling/barking 'What Do You Want?' they will make sure they further the disappointment of the customer, usually by offending them. Such greats include 'I'm not serving you, your too young' In which instance, I have pulled out valid ID declaring I'm 20, only for them to debate the existence of the 1st April 1988, and trying to convince me that I was actually born in a paradox, and that 1st April 1988 ever existed (though in more crude terms, such as 'F**k off, you weren't born then'). Another such instance occurred a few weeks later, when another employee, team leader no less, laughed at my ID and declared 'I looked like a girl', of which he managed to shout over some Warner Bros. employee shite whinging about his mate's girlfriend whilst having a cry-wank, to alert the whole store. Of which I find that offensive for two reasons. First being ever so slightly obvious, in the fact that you don't really expect to be insulted in front of the general public on an average shopping trip, and as a result, twas a tad annoyed. Secondly, I do not expect to be insulted by Chernobyl victims. If you have ever seen The Hills Have Eyes, bingo.

Having suffered depression for nigh on thirty minutes, I have found this whole shopping excursion too depressing, and seek to drown my sorrows with a pint or two.

So this is your ploy, you must be constantly having hand-shandies over the CCTV images from every store, as your customers line your pockets, before walking home in depression, only to buy emo music which you will have share in, or diverting to emo-pubs which will only serve pints of depression (so your probably tied with Scottish and Newcastle as well). I for one will not be allowing you to wank over images of my depressed self any longer.

Yours in Combat
Joseph Goldsworthy

Wow, you really hate getting IDd. 

I once got IDd for 37p Morrisons paracetomol a few weeks before my 26th birthday.  If it weren't for the lack of supervisor around, I don't think the woman would have served me them despite having me having valid ID.  I found the whole thing so confusing I didn't even manage an eloquently worded letter of outrage.

It isn't the ID which gets me, just their inability to actually promote any level of customer service whatsoever

I get ID'd all the time Sad (especially when it is just rizla that I want to buy Cry )

Me to, it's the unfortunate price we pay for youthful looks.  Alas, when the knuckle dragging pram faces serving us are fourty they'll faces like a sun-dried baboon's arse and we'll still look in our 20's so chin up!  Two Thumbs

Supposing that the alcohol doesn't catch up with us first Smashed
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« Reply #158 on: April 11, 2009, 19:05:16 »

To Spyglass Restaurant

To whom it may concern

After awaking this morning and drawing back the curtains I was delighted to be basked in warm sunshine under blue, blue skies, all topped off with clouds as delicate as powdered sugar.  What a perfect day for a treat I thought, maybe a nice spot of lunch.  After striding cheerfully into town and browsing the various options, my wife and I settled on Spyglass.  In hindsight we realise that this was a terrible mistake. 

After being seated in the sunshine and with a half-tidy view of the local swans our waitress took our order: a Cubano burger, a Spyglass burger with Chorizo, two pints of Birra Mooretti and two glasses of tap water.  I feel the need to repeat this now as it will become something of a running theme as my emailed tale unfolds.  So far, so good. 

25 minutes later, the member of staff that served us initially appeared to have fallen into a waitress shaped black-hole never to be seen again (at our table at least), along with our drinks.   Apparently alerted to our confused and thirsty looks, a slightly more authoritative figure approached, presumably to find out why we’d been staring so longingly at the bar for the best part of half an hour and to rectify any mistakes made by his waiting staff.  After repeating our food and drinks order we sank back into our sun-drenched chairs safe in the knowledge that our refreshing beverages would shortly be with us, swiftly followed by some tasty morsels.  Oh cruel fate, why did you continue to tease us?

15 minutes later; still no refreshment (and with more annoyed and thirsty looks) we again turn our heads bar-wards, this time attracting the attention of a tall, shaven-headed (Polish ?) man.  I draw attention to him as he’s the only person amongst your half-witted staff that made any attempts to; (a) bring us our drinks and; (b) apologise for any inconvenience in a sincere manner.  Finally, drinks are on their way.  Once again, to the tall man’s credit, the drinks appear (and they’re free) and he apologises for the mix up and takes our order for the third time. 

So, 45 minutes into our Spyglass dining (I say this in the loosest sense) experience, we’ve just gotten our drinks whilst those around us who’d arrived some time after are chowing down on delicious looking grub. 

Another 20 minutes go by and still no food.  Having ordered once, twice, three times I’m now convinced I could have impregnated my lady, raised a child for 18 years, sent him/her to bar-tending and chef school in the meantime raising and slaughtering cows, planting salad vegetables and setting up our own micro-brewery and we’d still have gotten our food and drink quicker than if we’d have waited in your shambolic excuse for a restaurant.   It was then that we decided to leave though before we did, my wife decided that she’d inform the authoritative man (who we assumed was some kind of manager) of this fact and why.  His eloquent response to our politely raised concerns; “oh, are you the couple that were sat in the corner?  Sorry about that.”

I must commend you on the atrocious levels of service as I’ve never been inclined to write a letter of complaint before, even having bore witness an unwholesome variety of feckless ineptitude in the past.  Unlike my hour or so hunger-filled lunchtime at Spyglass, I’ve actually enjoyed writing this.

Yours faithfully





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« Reply #159 on: April 11, 2009, 20:21:37 »


  Having ordered once, twice, three times I’m now convinced I could have impregnated my lady, raised a child for 18 years, sent him/her to bar-tending and chef school in the meantime raising and slaughtering cows, planting salad vegetables and setting up our own micro-brewery and we’d still have gotten our food and drink quicker than if we’d have waited in your shambolic excuse for a restaurant. 



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« Reply #160 on: April 12, 2009, 12:45:09 »


Leon Eggbeer





Your real name is Eggbeer? Amazing. Who the hell came up with that one? Your ancestor was some sort of mad scientist who tried fermenting eggs into an alcoholic drink?


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« Reply #161 on: April 12, 2009, 12:50:20 »


Leon Eggbeer





Your real name is Eggbeer? Amazing. Who the hell came up with that one? Your ancestor was some sort of mad scientist who tried fermenting eggs into an alcoholic drink?



I'd like to think so.  If he/she had any success I can't imagine it was very tasty though.

It's actually Devonshire.  There are three places on Dartmoor with the name. 
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« Reply #162 on: April 13, 2009, 09:31:00 »

I've been hearing really bad things about Spyglass recently, sounds like it has gone down the shitter
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« Reply #163 on: April 13, 2009, 10:52:29 »


Leon Eggbeer


Your real name is Eggbeer? Amazing. Who the hell came up with that one? Your ancestor was some sort of mad scientist who tried fermenting eggs into an alcoholic drink?

I'd like to think so.  If he/she had any success I can't imagine it was very tasty though.

It's actually Devonshire.  There are three places on Dartmoor with the name. 

i'd like to think the 'surname was your ancestors job hundreds of years ago' thing doesn't apply to mine.
if it does then i really have no idea what my ancestors did for a living

my surname is Pooley
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« Reply #164 on: April 13, 2009, 10:55:59 »


Leon Eggbeer


Your real name is Eggbeer? Amazing. Who the hell came up with that one? Your ancestor was some sort of mad scientist who tried fermenting eggs into an alcoholic drink?

I'd like to think so.  If he/she had any success I can't imagine it was very tasty though.

It's actually Devonshire.  There are three places on Dartmoor with the name. 

i'd like to think the 'surname was your ancestors job hundreds of years ago' thing doesn't apply to mine.
if it does then i really have no idea what my ancestors did for a living

my surname is Pooley
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Pooley? thats that old guy who what dug them pools in bath init?


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« Reply #165 on: April 14, 2009, 20:45:10 »

Complaint win!  Slayer  Not sure about the use of the word "atrocities" though, makes it sound like I'd insuinuated they'd commited genocide in my name or something.  Generally a nice response, given that I was expecting none and especially so after the sarcastic tone of my correspondence.  Big up the manager of Spyglass.

Dear Leon,

I would like to start off with a full and frank apology for the service (or lack there of) you received on your recent visit to Spyglass.

I whole heartedly accept responsibilty for the atrocities that occured and implied you to write a letter of complaint.  Although I wasnt actually present in the restaurant at the time of your visit, the full impact of your complaint rests upon my ability to employ, train and develop every member of staff that works here.

I respect your intelligence enough to not try and fob you off with any excuses, as it is my belief that there is no excuse for bad service.  However I would like to send you a voucher to cover the cost of your meal (had it ever made it to your table) and invite you back to Spyglass to see if we can't put right a few wrongs.

I would ask then if by return you could send me your home address so I can send said voucher in the post.

Once again I would like to extend my fullest apology for your bad experience and look forward to seeing you in the near future.

Kind regards
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« Reply #166 on: April 15, 2009, 08:05:23 »

implied you to write a letter

?
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« Reply #167 on: April 15, 2009, 09:25:57 »


Yeah, I didn't get that either.  Surely 'compelled' would be the word.
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« Reply #168 on: April 15, 2009, 10:03:12 »

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« Reply #169 on: March 03, 2010, 15:48:04 »

Dear Sir / Madam

I return from a nearby Barclays branch fatigued, a result of repeated but fruitless efforts to persuade your colleagues of my identity. This follows an unfortunate incident during a telephone call to Barclaycard, when I was informed that I do not know my own telephone number. This came as a surprise, as I was making the call from the number in question.

Despite presenting my driving licence, Barclaycard statement and payslip at the branch, I understand this is not sufficient to have a replacement card sent to me. The problem stems from the fact that my licence shows an old address. Your colleague suggested I pay for a new driving licence. Alas, I am reluctant to go down this road. I am a man of impulse, and who knows when I should move home again?

I am informed that this administrative hurdle cannot be overcome, despite my payslip and statement showing the address you have had on record since I opened the account. It is unfortunate that I do not have any utilities statements as requested. One can only speculate as to how I would have obtained my Barclaycard statement were I not in residence at the address you have on record? The mind boggles.

This is a conundrum for sure. I recently paid off my balance, leaving me with large amounts of credit desperate to be used. But without a card my account is useless, indeed I am unable to make the balance transfer I so wish. Not only this, but I now understand I am unable to close my account? I can’t use my account, but I can’t express my desire to not use it either. Indeed, my monthly statements will continue to be sent to the address that you do not believe is mine for all eternity.

It is a paradoxical situation for sure.

I would be grateful if you could contact me (given the events that led to this complaint, I humbly suggest using the phone number at the bottom of this letter). I would merely like a new card, or to close my account. I will leave the choice to you, although I would really prefer the former. Most people would have given up attempting to furnish your company with regular interest payments some time ago, but I am a forgiving individual.
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« Reply #170 on: March 03, 2010, 15:57:17 »

My little bro wrote some legendary letters of complaint about some of the silliest things once, and actually got responses...

Ill see if he's still got em, from what i remember they were pretty funny  Two Thumbs
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« Reply #171 on: March 04, 2010, 12:23:00 »

Dear Sir / Madam

I return from a nearby Barclays branch fatigued, a result of repeated but fruitless efforts to persuade your colleagues of my identity. This follows an unfortunate incident during a telephone call to Barclaycard, when I was informed that I do not know my own telephone number. This came as a surprise, as I was making the call from the number in question.

Despite presenting my driving licence, Barclaycard statement and payslip at the branch, I understand this is not sufficient to have a replacement card sent to me. The problem stems from the fact that my licence shows an old address. Your colleague suggested I pay for a new driving licence. Alas, I am reluctant to go down this road. I am a man of impulse, and who knows when I should move home again?

I am informed that this administrative hurdle cannot be overcome, despite my payslip and statement showing the address you have had on record since I opened the account. It is unfortunate that I do not have any utilities statements as requested. One can only speculate as to how I would have obtained my Barclaycard statement were I not in residence at the address you have on record? The mind boggles.

This is a conundrum for sure. I recently paid off my balance, leaving me with large amounts of credit desperate to be used. But without a card my account is useless, indeed I am unable to make the balance transfer I so wish. Not only this, but I now understand I am unable to close my account? I can’t use my account, but I can’t express my desire to not use it either. Indeed, my monthly statements will continue to be sent to the address that you do not believe is mine for all eternity.

It is a paradoxical situation for sure.

I would be grateful if you could contact me (given the events that led to this complaint, I humbly suggest using the phone number at the bottom of this letter). I would merely like a new card, or to close my account. I will leave the choice to you, although I would really prefer the former. Most people would have given up attempting to furnish your company with regular interest payments some time ago, but I am a forgiving individual.


You should probably know that if you get caught with a driving licence not registered at your actual address, you might get fined £1000.
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« Reply #172 on: March 04, 2010, 12:32:59 »

You should probably know that if you get caught with a driving licence not registered at your actual address, you might get fined £1000.

Yup, found that out shortly after I faxed the letter. Have swiftly applied to get it changed. Of course this also means I have fuck all grounds for complaint against Barclaycard so I might just claim someone has been trying extremely hard to steal my identity.

Tip: Always wait a day before sending sarcastic emails/letters, it probably won't seem like such a good idea.

Doh!  Laugh
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« Reply #173 on: March 04, 2010, 19:48:51 »

Loving this thread!
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« Reply #174 on: July 31, 2010, 15:19:16 »

Going straight to the top this time.


"Dear Mr David Call Me Dave Cameron,

I find myself today moved to write to you on a matter of great urgency, namely that of the future of the UK's public services and therefore, its strong, brave, noble people. Our revels are now ended. I am referring, you will no doubt eventually fathom, to Tory Cuts (notice the absence of the 'N' - at this stage, I am prepared to be reasonable.)

Since that black day when the excellent dumb discourse of your rapacious polyester Bullingdonian mob sneakily inveigled you into power in your Liberal Democrat Trojan horse, it has come to my attention that persons such as myself, an ordinary UK resident, are under attack. This attack comes in the form of a sustained assault on such admittedly trivial bourgeois fripperies as healthcare, education and shit like that. I hath given my empire up to a whore.

Imagine my total lack of surprise when you and your fellow buttock-faced public school boy wonder sidekick announced, to a lickspittle meek and complicit media, through expendable intermediary tossers such as Michael Gove (who has achieved the feat of being even uglier and more irritating than you) your intention to gut the public sector in the name of "saving the economy". This was the most unkindest cut of all. Britain's fair citizens will rejoice at the sacrifices they have made so that gits in suits can fly their helicopters over Canary Wharf unabated. I personally will relish losing my job, home, access to healthcare, education for my unborn children and so on, if it will help Lord Ashcroft build an airport on St Helena to better enjoy his holidays there. Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from your hand?

As you can see I've got you on the ropes here. Not to worry Dave! I have composed a three point plan for you and your slobbering hunchbacked minions, to ensure continuing success. Cheques to the usual address please, I'm sure your old Etonian chums in MI6 know where I live.

1) Make Turkey Invade Iran

2) Say we can't afford the NHS or schools because there's a war on

3) Sit back and count the money. Also be sure to compare the UK's economy to Tesco when engaged in 'heated debates'. After all, they have a lot in common.


Please find below my alternative plan - you can have this one for free.

1) Kill Nick Clegg

2) Kill yourself

3) Kill yourself and Nick Clegg


You have not heard the last of this Dave.

Yours in Combat,

Benjamin Guevara."
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« Reply #175 on: July 31, 2010, 16:05:26 »

I really hope you actually sent this letter.
The sign off alone is great and must surely technically amount to something that will generate hilarious "terrorist" charges. Nice work as always.
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« Reply #176 on: July 31, 2010, 18:46:12 »

Both superb and a delight to read, as ever. Thanks Ben.
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« Reply #177 on: October 26, 2010, 17:57:52 »

A little long I admit, but there's a pleasing peaks and troughs structure with a rousing crescendo.

--//--

Sirs,

Ours is digital age, in which a broadband internet connection is considered a requirement for a reasonable standard of living; something with which I’m sure you would agree. And why so, should one sacrifice this basic standard of living whilst availing oneself of the hospitality of a hotel, let alone one which one caters for the business world? A world, indeed, whose wheels are greased by the World Wide Web! These are not, of course, the musings of an enquiring mind which I have simply chosen to share with your good selves for the benefit of general discourse; rather the crux of a matter which has caused me much vexation.

I recently took lodgings with Manchester Marriott Victoria and Albert, a well-appointed and fine establishment in many respects. It was whilst a guest that I found myself faced with a situation which saw me needing to download a video file (measuring 127 megabytes in size) which I required for my next day’s work. I had my laptop, and your hotel offered me a variety of ways of connecting to the internet. The problem, on first inspection, seemed slight. However, upon trying to use the free wireless connection available in the hotel “lounge” I was confronted by transfer speeds which were, frankly put, inadequate for the task. But what fortune to discover hotel propaganda notifying me that better connectivity could be found in my hotel room! “High Speed Connection,” it said. “Ideal for transferring large files,” it claimed. So to my room! But, alas, here our tale takes a sad and sickening turn. I connected my laptop with the ethernet cable provided: rank portent of coming woe, my web browser struggled to access the greeting page of your internet service, requiring no less than five refreshes and a reboot. But when finally the page vested it’s content, I was confronted with something that still visits me in visions by night, chilling my blood. For the privilege of accessing this much feted service, I was to be relived of six pounds.

Six pounds, Sirs, for one hour.

My first stupefied thoughts were that perhaps the beef-witted annex of your corporate structure which cooked-up this abomination of price structure posseses a groundless hatred for the public, or simply that it views guests as well-pastured cash cows to be cruelly, vigorously, and relentlessly milked. Regardless, my situation left me with no option but to proceed with the transaction.

I left my computer to download the file I needed, and turned the television on. An on-screen menu offered me TV, radio, films, and “adult” content. It immediately struck me: of course, with reasonably priced internet connection in guests’ rooms, Messers Marriott would never sell another pornographic film. After all, why would any sane pornofile pay to see a hotel’s offerings of relatively santitised smut, when the web offers anything their highly capable imagination can dream up, for free. It must be, I thought, that pornography is the very cornerstone of Marriott’s business plan for it to be guarded it with such frothing fanaticism. And so, after a few minutes of Newsnight’s calming sobriety, I returned to my laptop to check the progress of my download, only to discover that the horror was to continue. I’m duty-bound to inform you that by today’s standard, 127MB is not an overly large file. And even if it is bigger than the anticipated needs of your average guest, what was “ideal” for large files should have been “adequate” for mine. But no, the estimated download time lay beyond the limits of that six-pounded hour.

Aghast. This is the word I chose to describe my feelings at the time, as more florid a description would likely lead to a visit from Special Branch. Simply put, the evening’s compounded insults had rendered my sanity the proverbial camel’s loaded back, providing me with a rare and disturbing glimpse into the mindset of someone who visits a shopping mall with an assault-rifle intent on gunning down innocents and perfect strangers in retaliation to the spiteful and unjust joke that is life.

Doubtless, I do not need to tell you that henceforth my custom can no longer be considered yours, and that the reasoning behind Marriott’s hateful campaign against reasonably-priced access to internet connections, of even vaguely twenty-first century speeds, remains opaque.

Yours dumbfounded,
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« Reply #178 on: October 26, 2010, 19:11:42 »

that sir is a grade A letter of complaint, I really hope they reply with something better than the standard copy and paste response
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« Reply #179 on: October 26, 2010, 19:29:46 »

I've been hearing really bad things about Spyglass recently, sounds like it has gone down the shitter

it hasn't got any better in the past year, I walked out before being served in the summer
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« Reply #180 on: November 24, 2011, 11:02:55 »

I'll be quick to state that my letter writing has got better, but Bejn is the king. BT have wound me up as a new customer already. tl;dr etc

Quote
Good morning, I have only just become a customer of yours and am already thinking I've made the wrong decision. I shall start at the beginning, I guess that makes sense and all.

Firstly, I ordered the broadband/phone/TV bundle online and specified that all items should be delivered to my work address. This included two cordless phones, due to be delivered 23rd November, yesterday.

I got a confirmation email the day after I ordered stating all items will be delivered to my home address. I promptly phoned to discuss and the lady told me that she couldn't amend any of the order address details whatsoever unless it was within 20 minutes of when I ordered. I was annoyed but could cope with it, as I could pick the phones up this weekend from the local Post Office or Parcelforce dept, not ideal as I generally like to enjoy my weekend but I can deal with that.

My other half then went out of her way to take annual leave and swap shifts with colleagues etc to ensure someone was in to take delivery of the Home Hub and Vision+ box which was due to arrive next Tuesday, 29th November. I won't lie to you, she was majorly excited that we could step into the 20th Century and have Internets, and even watch on demand TV. With Her Majesty's BT!

I then got a phone call yesterday (23rd November) informing me that the Openreach engineer cannot make the 29th and now will activate at the exchange on the 30th. "Not a problem." said I, "You can deliver on the 29th when my other half is in and when activated the next day, we can put the relevant kit in place.". The lady said it wasn't possible, so said BT would just deliver the kit the next day if there was somewhere safe to leave it or to leave with the neighbours. Well, seeing as I've never met my new neighbours, that would have made for an awkward time, so I then insisted that they NEED to be sent to my place of work. Well, quelle surprise, the lady I spoke to COULD make the change on the system. I am now technically getting this sent to my place of work, although I'm not banking on it getting here.

The reason I say this is that the phones were supposed to arrive yesterday at my home address. I got home before 6pm, expecting a) to see something dropped on my doorstep in plain view of the High Street, b) a note through the door stating that it was returned to the depot/left with a neighbour or c) a knock on the door by one of the cheerful fellows at Parcelforce with a box in their hand.

Need I say that I had experienced none of the above? I then dialled onto the Parcelforce website to see what was agwan, and someone called J Staples had signed for it. Yay! J Staples signed for my package! Oh, wait, I don't have a clue who that is. No note through my door saying, "Oh hai, BTW your lovely new neighbours at no X have signed for your package and are currently probably selling it down the pub". Not a sausage. I then had to knock on the door next-door-but-one (there was a cryptic number 5 next to the signature, unless their name is 5 J Staples and they are the cool kids on the block). No-one was in, the lights are off. Maybe they've sold them and decided to go on a Sun special 2-for-1 holiday to Margate. I hear it’s quite nice this time of year.

Either way I'm appauled with the service so far and have very little confidence that the rest of this is going to go very well. You guys are hugely expensive, unfortunately I couldn't get Virgin Media so it was yourselves or Sky. Everyone told me to avoid BT at all costs - I just laughed it off and thought they were being Virgin Media/Sky fanboys. I'm starting to think that I should listen to those “in the know” a little bit more.

Anyway, so to summarise:

1) Your website doesn't work. Specified delivery addresses don't register.
2) Your staff send mixed messages. Either they can't be arsed to help or they don't know what they're doing.
3) Parcelforce are incompetent fuckwits who should be given a swift kick in the balls.
4) My other half now has taken unnecessary annual leave for no reason.
5) I am having to turn down out of hours work because I cannot be sure when it's all going to get sorted.

I never had these problems with Virgin Media or Sky - I have been contacted on a few occasions by the latter to see if there are any deals I would consider in order to return. I am starting to entertain the idea after these experiences of poor service in the early stages. After all, they do have Sky Atlantic HD among others. There aren't many incentives that would actually keep me with BT instead of Sky - they even have Sky Movies. All you offer is free ESPN and to pay through the nose for Sky Sports. Oh and pay an extra £10 on top for a card you should really just be bundling in with the Vision box.

Forgive me for the wordy letter, however there are plenty of issues that have already arisen and I've only just had my phone line activated. I know it works because I have plugged in a chunky old work phone which dials out. That's one thing BT have actually done correctly, so muchos kudos to yourselves.

Ideally, I would like you to do the following:

1) Assure me that the remaining items will be delivered to my work address, and on time.
2) Give Parcelforce the hairdryer treatment/never use them again. At the very least tell them to start leaving cards through the door, it’s not much to ask for.
3) Reimburse the activation fee, delivery and viewing card costs (I guess this comes to around £56 or thereabouts). This has cost a lot more in time spent taking annual leave, composing this complaint in working hours (cheers for the backlog I’ve accumulated) and turning down additional working from home capabilities. This coupled with the fact I have to now go on an Easter egg hunt around my neighbourhood to see who has our phones does not fill me with joy. I'm not Keith Chegwin, Danny Baker or Shane Richie. Nor do I wish to be.
4) Offer some kind of incentive to actually stay with BT instead of going to Sky. I have Sky's number and they are pretty quick to reinstate customers who wish to return within two years, Jimmy in Glasgow assured me of that.

Alternatively, if you could let me know a little bit more about the cooling off period, I can get the ball rolling.

I look forward to hearing from you very soon.

Kind Regards,

Evs
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« Reply #181 on: November 24, 2011, 11:13:59 »

why write so much?

Dear BT,

I have attempted to sign up to services xyz.

Nothing that was agreed has arrived when it should and my household has been inconvenienced greatly.

Either BT refunds all charges or rectifies this ASAP and considers a good will gesture of 2 months charges for inconvenience.

Regards

Angry Evs
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« Reply #182 on: November 24, 2011, 11:17:09 »

It soothes the soul
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« Reply #183 on: November 24, 2011, 11:18:10 »

"I'm not Keith Chegwin, Danny Baker or Shane Richie. Nor do I wish to be."

 Laughing
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« Reply #184 on: November 24, 2011, 12:21:29 »

"I'm not Keith Chegwin, Danny Baker or Shane Richie. Nor do I wish to be."

 Laughing


Best line!
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« Reply #185 on: November 30, 2011, 15:40:14 »

I now have all the bits I needed after a few badgering phone calls and just got this gem back.

Quote
Dear Mr Evans,

Thank you for your email.

I am so sorry that you have found it necessary to complain to BT, I do understand why you were so frustrated.

I am pleased that the phones finally made their way to you without a Keith Chegwin, Danny Baker or Shane Richie style hunt, and I am truly sorry for the inconvenience you were caused. I will raise this with our team that liase with Parcel Force so that they can provide feedback on your behalf.

There has been an issue with the royal mail website, so I have been unable to track your parcel to ensure correct delivery, however your work address is showing on our system as the requested address and today the tracking number shows that your parcel has been delivered. If there has been any further problems with this please let me know and I will add it to our internal investigation.

I am also truly sorry that your partner had to use annual leave in order to wait for the much anticipated equipment, I can imagine she was very disappointed. It is always our aim to ensure customers are happy with their services and it is disappointing that we failed in this instance. For this reason I am happy to meet your request of a £56.00 credit if you are happy to accept this as final resolution to your complaint.

Please let me know in your response if your equipment was delivered as you expected, and if you are happy to accept the credit I have offered.

Thank you for contacting BT.

Yours sincerely,

Samantha Vickers

BT Resolution Team

Complaints Advisor

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« Reply #186 on: November 30, 2011, 15:41:22 »

Oh, and it would be rude for me not to post this recent letter I sent to everyone's favourite bus operator.

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Dear First Bus,

Firstly I’d just like to say I love your TV advert, it’s so fresh and happy and really fills me with joy when I see it on the telly. What with all those annoying Iceland Christmas ads with that X Factor reject “partying like a celebrity”, give over.

Anyway, I digress. I mean, who wouldn’t want every trip to be like that in the advert? Singing bus driver, happy customers having the most wonderful singing and dancing time of their lives. That’s what we all strive for when it comes to the commute to work.

Except that it’s a complete load of old cack. Your drivers are miserable farts who most of the time can’t be arsed to even stop, and when they do they look at you as though you’re asking something outrageous. Your buses are litter-laden rejects from other cities and you can’t be arsed to even change the adverts. Whenever I want to get my plumbing sorted in Bristol, I’ll just call that handyman in Manchester to fix it shall I?

Don’t even get me started on your prices. Fortunately I can drive and have access to another nice friendly bus operator for the majority of the time. They have fantastic friendly drivers, their buses are clean and their prices are unbelievably much cheaper than yours. Plus they operate on exactly the same route. I get the earlier bus to avoid getting on yours and I’d quite happily pay them twice the amount that you charge just so that you can sod off.

Regards,

Evs
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« Reply #187 on: November 30, 2011, 16:03:29 »

Oh, and it would be rude for me not to post this recent letter I sent to everyone's favourite bus operator.

Quote
Dear First Bus,

Firstly I’d just like to say I love your TV advert, it’s so fresh and happy and really fills me with joy when I see it on the telly. What with all those annoying Iceland Christmas ads with that X Factor reject “partying like a celebrity”, give over.

Anyway, I digress. I mean, who wouldn’t want every trip to be like that in the advert? Singing bus driver, happy customers having the most wonderful singing and dancing time of their lives. That’s what we all strive for when it comes to the commute to work.

Except that it’s a complete load of old cack. Your drivers are miserable farts who most of the time can’t be arsed to even stop, and when they do they look at you as though you’re asking something outrageous. Your buses are litter-laden rejects from other cities and you can’t be arsed to even change the adverts. Whenever I want to get my plumbing sorted in Bristol, I’ll just call that handyman in Manchester to fix it shall I?

Don’t even get me started on your prices. Fortunately I can drive and have access to another nice friendly bus operator for the majority of the time. They have fantastic friendly drivers, their buses are clean and their prices are unbelievably much cheaper than yours. Plus they operate on exactly the same route. I get the earlier bus to avoid getting on yours and I’d quite happily pay them twice the amount that you charge just so that you can sod off.

Regards,

Evs

your letter writing skills are epic lolzer Smiley

but I do get the impression you spend alot of your time writing letters of complaint, and must be an avid fan of "points of view"  Tongue


"oh hai yes, is this the complaints department..."
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« Reply #188 on: November 30, 2011, 16:05:03 »

Oh, and it would be rude for me not to post this recent letter I sent to everyone's favourite bus operator.

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Dear First Bus,

Firstly I’d just like to say I love your TV advert, it’s so fresh and happy and really fills me with joy when I see it on the telly. What with all those annoying Iceland Christmas ads with that X Factor reject “partying like a celebrity”, give over.

Anyway, I digress. I mean, who wouldn’t want every trip to be like that in the advert? Singing bus driver, happy customers having the most wonderful singing and dancing time of their lives. That’s what we all strive for when it comes to the commute to work.

Except that it’s a complete load of old cack. Your drivers are miserable farts who most of the time can’t be arsed to even stop, and when they do they look at you as though you’re asking something outrageous. Your buses are litter-laden rejects from other cities and you can’t be arsed to even change the adverts. Whenever I want to get my plumbing sorted in Bristol, I’ll just call that handyman in Manchester to fix it shall I?

Don’t even get me started on your prices. Fortunately I can drive and have access to another nice friendly bus operator for the majority of the time. They have fantastic friendly drivers, their buses are clean and their prices are unbelievably much cheaper than yours. Plus they operate on exactly the same route. I get the earlier bus to avoid getting on yours and I’d quite happily pay them twice the amount that you charge just so that you can sod off.

Regards,

Evs

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« Reply #189 on: November 30, 2011, 16:08:22 »

I now have all the bits I needed after a few badgering phone calls and just got this gem back.

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Dear Mr Evans,

Thank you for your email.

I am so sorry that you have found it necessary to complain to BT, I do understand why you were so frustrated.

I am pleased that the phones finally made their way to you without a Keith Chegwin, Danny Baker or Shane Richie style hunt, and I am truly sorry for the inconvenience you were caused. I will raise this with our team that liase with Parcel Force so that they can provide feedback on your behalf.

There has been an issue with the royal mail website, so I have been unable to track your parcel to ensure correct delivery, however your work address is showing on our system as the requested address and today the tracking number shows that your parcel has been delivered. If there has been any further problems with this please let me know and I will add it to our internal investigation.

I am also truly sorry that your partner had to use annual leave in order to wait for the much anticipated equipment, I can imagine she was very disappointed. It is always our aim to ensure customers are happy with their services and it is disappointing that we failed in this instance. For this reason I am happy to meet your request of a £56.00 credit if you are happy to accept this as final resolution to your complaint.

Please let me know in your response if your equipment was delivered as you expected, and if you are happy to accept the credit I have offered.

Thank you for contacting BT.

Yours sincerely,

Samantha Vickers

BT Resolution Team

Complaints Advisor

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To be fair to them that's a marginally better reply than you get from most customer complaint departments
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« Reply #190 on: November 30, 2011, 16:10:01 »

Haydeez, I've moved home three times in three years so you tend to have to deal with utility companies and stuff a fair bit. That's when the complaints start mounting up due to incompetence. Plus I just had to have a go at first, a three stop journey cost me £3.20 last night so I think that rant was justified.
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« Reply #191 on: November 30, 2011, 16:14:59 »

Haydeez, I've moved home three times in three years so you tend to have to deal with utility companies and stuff a fair bit. That's when the complaints start mounting up due to incompetence. Plus I just had to have a go at first, a three stop journey cost me £3.20 last night so I think that rant was justified.
Should've walked you lazy bastard.
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« Reply #192 on: November 30, 2011, 16:16:39 »

I'd like to see you walk down an unlit dual carriageway to collect your car from the garage mate
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« Reply #193 on: November 30, 2011, 17:10:17 »

Haydeez, I've moved home three times in three years so you tend to have to deal with utility companies and stuff a fair bit. That's when the complaints start mounting up due to incompetence. Plus I just had to have a go at first, a three stop journey cost me £3.20 last night so I think that rant was justified.

dont worry i completely condone your moaning, I complain about everything all the time, and if people's/companies faults are pointed out your just going to be pissed off all the time unless you stand up and say something!
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« Reply #194 on: November 30, 2011, 17:14:00 »

Damn straight, those crisis loans don't arrange themselves. LIGHTAH!
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« Reply #195 on: November 30, 2011, 17:48:39 »

I'd like to see you walk down an unlit dual carriageway to collect your car from the garage mate
I assume you're talking about the road to Hick's Gate?
I used to walk that way home after clubbing in town when I still lived in Saltford.  A shade over 1hr 30min was my best time.  Smashed
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« Reply #196 on: November 30, 2011, 18:49:18 »

I'd like to see you walk down an unlit dual carriageway to collect your car from the garage mate
I assume you're talking about the road to Hick's Gate?
I used to walk that way home after clubbing in town when I still lived in Saltford.  A shade over 1hr 30min was my best time.  Smashed

Yep, Hick's Gate to Co-Op roundabout matey.
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« Reply #197 on: December 01, 2011, 11:45:52 »

Not sure if this is a pea-roast, but I've been really enjoying the blog "letters to first great western" where some guy writes to the CEO of First every single time his train's delayed. It's genius. The blog's here http://letterstofgw.blogspot.com/ with a particularly good example of one of his letter's here http://letterstofgw.blogspot.com/2011/11/28-november-2011-letter-60.html
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« Reply #198 on: July 06, 2012, 15:05:29 »

Good afternoon,

I recently flew with Easyjet, and had a relatively pleasant experience overall. No real waiting times for the bag drop, and as we were on honeymoon the young lady at the desk gave us special assistance boarding which was very nice of her.

However, flying home from Barcelona to Bristol, we were rather famished, with the food and drink available at Barcelona airport rather bad for such a large place.

Imagine my delight when it was announced on the PA when on the plane that there was an assortment of hot snacks available. Please look through the Bistro brochure they said, and boy we did. A hot cheese and ham toastie, sounded divine! We waited patiently for the food cart to arrive, ordered our delicious snacks, when, the lady on the cart announced that they had sold out! They'd only gone along about 10 rows! How the hell can you run out of hot food?

So, despite my disappointment, I was going to eat, damn straight. So, I was given the choice of meat feast or cheddar and pickle. Well, meat feast was out of the question, so I went for the cheese and pickle sarnie. These are £4 on the menu, so I knew I was getting some gourmet grub.

Imagine my surprise when I opened the pack and was met with a sandwich comprising some thin stale bread, a small amount of cheese, even less pickle, and a laughable "leaf" which was about the size of a 2p coin. £4! I could have filled a hollowed out loaf with brie for that kind of money!

Anyway, as if this pitiful excuse for a "sandwich" was not enough, I had also decided to treat myself to one of your fine "Starbucks" coffees. Italian Roast, wow, I knew I was in for a treat having just returned from Italy, they know their coffee.
This was bound to be paradise.

In reality however, I was greeted with a lukewarm brew accompanied by one carton of UHT milk. The Baristas of the World will be quaking in their boots when they fly with Easyjet I tell you! I can cope with a lukewarm cup of coffee if it's as tasty as the menu points out. So, imagine the disappointment of having shelled out £2.50 for this drink when the flavour resembled a combination of TCP and mud. It really wasn't very pleasant.
 
I have no complaint about the pipe of paprika Pringles, nor the Twix that was bundled in on our "Meal Deal". The real deal clearly belonged to whoever managed to get this past the people in charge of approving the food and drink that you provide. The margins must be fucking huge. Boots do a meal deal that I genuinely think is worth the money. The food is miles better and less than half the price, you might want to find out who makes their grub.

How much did I have to shell out for this delightful banquet? In the region of £16.
 
I wonder how you sleep at night. Thanks for this delectable gastronomic ending to our honeymoon. I get that you are a budget airline and have to increase your profits in other areas, I really do. However, even though people have nowhere else to go when they are 30,000ft up in the air, you could at least try and provide us with something of a similar quality to Boots (a bloody pharmacy!) for, say, a fiver.

Kind Regards,

Evs
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« Reply #199 on: July 06, 2012, 15:08:18 »

I also have one that I sent to Carphone Warehouse but I'm too livid to post it yet. Let's just say it involves everyone's favourite courier, Yodel.  Cry
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