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The Best Complaint Letter Ever…

Thursday, January 29, 2009
Posted in: It Takes All Sorts

This was a letter received by Virgin Atlantic’s customer complaints team.

“Dear Mr Branson

REF: Mumbai to Heathrow 7th December 2008

I love the Virgin brand, I really do which is why I continue to use it despite a series of unfortunate incidents over the last few years. This latest incident takes the biscuit.

Ironically, by the end of the flight I would have gladly paid over a thousand rupees for a single biscuit following the culinary journey of hell I was subjected to at the hands of your corporation.

Look at this Richard. Just look at it:


I imagine the same questions are racing through your brilliant mind as were racing through mine on that fateful day. What is this? Why have I been given it? What have I done to deserve this? And, which one is the starter, which one is the desert?

You don’t get to a position like yours Richard with anything less than a generous sprinkling of observational power so I KNOW you will have spotted the tomato next to the two yellow shafts of sponge on the left. Yes, it’s next to the sponge shaft without the green paste. That’s got to be the clue hasn’t it. No sane person would serve a desert with a tomato would they. Well answer me this Richard, what sort of animal would serve a desert with peas in:


I know it looks like a baaji but it’s in custard Richard, custard. It must be the pudding. Well you’ll be fascinated to hear that it wasn’t custard. It was a sour gel with a clear oil on top. It’s only redeeming feature was that it managed to be so alien to my palette that it took away the taste of the curry emanating from our miscellaneous central cuboid of beige matter. Perhaps the meal on the left might be the desert after all.

Anyway, this is all irrelevant at the moment. I was raised strictly but neatly by my parents and if they knew I had started desert before the main course, a sponge shaft would be the least of my worries. So lets peel back the tin-foil on the main dish and see what’s on offer.

I’ll try and explain how this felt. Imagine being a twelve year old boy Richard. Now imagine it’s Christmas morning and you’re sat their with your final present to open. It’s a big one, and you know what it is. It’s that Goodmans stereo you picked out the catalogue and wrote to Santa about.

Only you open the present and it’s not in there. It’s your hamster Richard. It’s your hamster in the box and it’s not breathing. That’s how I felt when I peeled back the foil and saw this:


Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it’s more of that Baaji custard. I admit I thought the same too, but no. It’s mustard Richard. MUSTARD. More mustard than any man could consume in a month. On the left we have a piece of broccoli and some peppers in a brown glue-like oil and on the right the chef had prepared some mashed potato. The potato masher had obviously broken and so it was decided the next best thing would be to pass the potatoes through the digestive tract of a bird.

Once it was regurgitated it was clearly then blended and mixed with a bit of mustard. Everybody likes a bit of mustard Richard.

By now I was actually starting to feel a little hypoglycaemic. I needed a sugar hit. Luckily there was a small cookie provided. It had caught my eye earlier due to it’s baffling presentation:


It appears to be in an evidence bag from the scene of a crime. A CRIME AGAINST BLOODY COOKING. Either that or some sort of back-street underground cookie, purchased off a gun-toting maniac high on his own supply of yeast. You certainly wouldn’t want to be caught carrying one of these through customs. Imagine biting into a piece of brass Richard. That would be softer on the teeth than the specimen above.

I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was relax but obviously I had to sit with that mess in front of me for half an hour. I swear the sponge shafts moved at one point.

Once cleared, I decided to relax with a bit of your world-famous onboard entertainment. I switched it on:


I apologise for the quality of the photo, it’s just it was incredibly hard to capture Boris Johnson’s face through the flickering white lines running up and down the screen. Perhaps it would be better on another channel:

Is that Ray Liotta? A question I found myself asking over and over again throughout the gruelling half-hour I attempted to watch the film like this. After that I switched off. I’d had enough. I was the hungriest I’d been in my adult life and I had a splitting headache from squinting at a crackling screen.

My only option was to simply stare at the seat in front and wait for either food, or sleep. Neither came for an incredibly long time. But when it did it surpassed my wildest expectations:


Yes! It’s another crime-scene cookie. Only this time you dunk it in the white stuff.

Richard…. What is that white stuff? It looked like it was going to be yoghurt. It finally dawned on me what it was after staring at it. It was a mixture between the Baaji custard and the Mustard sauce. It reminded me of my first week at university. I had overheard that you could make a drink by mixing vodka and refreshers. I lied to my new friends and told them I’d done it loads of times. When I attempted to make the drink in a big bowl it formed a cheese Richard, a cheese. That cheese looked a lot like your baaji-mustard.

So that was that Richard. I didn’t eat a bloody thing. My only question is: How can you live like this? I can’t imagine what dinner round your house is like, it must be like something out of a nature documentary.

As I said at the start I love your brand, I really do. It’s just a shame such a simple thing could bring it crashing to it’s knees and begging for sustenance.

Yours Sincerely…”

I swear, few people can manage cutting sarcasm quite like us Brits. Heheh.

Apparently, Richard Branson, being the good sport that he is, offered him a job as food taster for Virgin. *G*

It’s a good job the judge threw out the case, but how the fuck did it even get to court?

A judge has thrown out a case against God – as the Almighty doesn’t have an official address and legal papers can’t be served.

Nebraska State Senator Ernie Chambers filed the lawsuit last year seeking a permanent injunction against God who he said made terrorist threats against him and his Omaha constituents.

Additionally, he said God inspired fear and caused “widespread death, destruction and terrorisation of millions upon millions of the Earth’s inhabitants”.

The US politician said his case was over the fact that everyone should have access to the courts regardless of whether they have money or not.

However, Douglas County District Court Judge Marlon Polk ruled that under state law a plaintiff must have access to the defendant for a lawsuit to move forward – and this would be rather tricky under the circumstances.

Judge Polk said: “Given that this court finds that there can never be service effectuated on the named defendant this action will be dismissed with prejudice.”

But Senator Chambers, a law school graduate, thinks he’s found a hole in the judge’s ruling.

He said: “The court itself acknowledges the existence of God. A consequence of that acknowledgement is a recognition of God’s omniscience.

“Since God knows everything, God has notice of this lawsuit.”

Senator Chambers, who has served a record 38 years in the Nebraska Legislature, has 30 days to decide whether to appeal.

I want to know if anybody’s checked Senator Chamber’s mental processes recently.

Talk About Child Abuse…

Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Posted in: It Takes All Sorts

I was listening to the radio in my car yesterday, when I heard the news about the mother who constantly feeds her eighteen month old child, chips (fries to you Americans):

A mum who feeds her 18-month-old baby chips for most meals has been warned she is putting her child’s health at risk.

Angela Boswell’s daughter Courtney was 10lbs 9oz when she was born in December 2006.

But after being fed a fatty, high-salt diet of chips, chocolate and crisps she has rocketed to 30lbs – the size of an average four-year-old.

Courtney is so big that she will star in the ITV show Britain’s Biggest Babies next week.

And the footage will show her scoffing a large portion of chips, which she can polish off in just ten minutes.

Now mum Angela, 33, of Clayton, has been warned by top dieticians that her child is at a worrying weight which could lead to health problems in later life.

Apparently, the mother defended herself, saying that the child just wouldn’t eat anything other than junk food, and that she didn’t think it would have a negative effect on her, when she got older. Dude, the eighteen month old child weighs thirty pounds.

What is wrong with these people?

What. The. Fuck?

A 16-year-old girl has given birth to triplets for the second time in a case which has stunned doctors and caused outrage in Argentina.

The girl, named only as Pamela, had a second set of female triplets earlier this month after giving birth to her first set at the age of 15 in July 2006. She had her first child, a boy, when she was just 14.

All seven children were born prematurely but without any kind of fertility treatment. While doctors say the three newborns and their mother are well, the case has sparked debate across Argentina.

The girl is sixteen and she already has seven children? Whatever happened to sex education? Or The Pill, even?

I can’t even blame Gisele Bundchen for this. Dammit.

I followed the link that Anon supplied in a comment below, and I found this fascinating blog post. Here’s a snippet:

“Amid rumors of financial mishandling, Peacock Cove e-book publisher, Rebecca Gatto, plans to exchange vows with Charles “Chip” Davis in February 2008. Davis is also known as inmate # 5447632 at Fern Valley State Penitentiary.”

I can’t imagine that any publisher would flaunt herself in her undies, like the photo suggests, but how funny if it were true? Spoof or not, it sure is amusing, heheh.

Jesus. Effing. Christ.

I was at Erecsite earlier today, when I came across the following comment by an author called Cheryl Anne Gardner:

“Good Luck to you in this. We need more publishers open to all kinds of sexuality and romance. My new one coming out in January has consentual rape, BDSM, and cutting and blood play … and the darn thing is a romance as well.”

Cutting and blood play?

Pardon me while I pass out.

One Man And His Beeyotch…

Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Posted in: It Takes All Sorts, It's a dog's life

I heard on the radio today that a man in India married his dog.

Just judging on appearances, I think the dog could have done much better.

Whoever said that blondes have more fun, obviously never met this bitch.

There are just too many jokes that one could make with regards to this, but I must admit, I was most amused when the radio presenter wondered what the First Dance song would be, and his co-host suggested Three Times A Bitch by Lionel Richie.

What’s the weirdest story you ever heard of? Actually scrap that, have you anymore suggestions for possible first dance songs? ‘Take My Dog Breath Away’, by Berlin, and ‘Breed Her Like A Lady’ by The Temptations had me absolutely howling. *g*

Incest? Romantic? Really?

Sunday, November 11, 2007
Posted in: Incest In Romance, It Takes All Sorts

Apparently, my fave author evah has a new book out, that features two brothers who are involved in a sexual relationship. With each other.

Is this being marketed as a romance? Seriously? Well, she must be doing something right because the book is Total E-bounds’ number one seller.

This is the blurb from the Total E-bounds site:

Lovely. Anybody going to admit to having bought it?

Thanks to You-Know-Who for the tip-off.

Doesn’t that picture of the baby make you chuckle every time you look at it? *g*