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This is a question Ripped Off

A friend who worked in a second hand record shop told us about a Japanese guy who regularly bought "rare" records in their shop. One time, he was looking for a signed copy of "Never Mind the Bollocks".

They didn't have one. Four people and one magic marker later, they did. Ker-ching!

How have you been ripped off? Who did you rip off? Are you a British Gas customer?

(, Thu 15 Feb 2007, 16:28)
Pages: Latest, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Divorce Lawyers.....
I'm sure I can't be the only one with a story like this:

I'm in the midst of getting divorced. It's all amicable, we've agreed what we want to do, and all my solicitor has to do is draw up the financial agreement. Now, we've actually divided up almost everything in advance, all that's left is the house, so when the lawyer tells me "If it's straightforward, it'll cost around £1200", I assume that's about what I'll pay.

Some months later, no contest on anything from the ex-wife, (who hasn't even bothered with a solicitor), we haven't even got to sending the documents to court yet, and the cnut has already charged me more than £2400. I'm getting a bit tetchy, but I want the thing finished, so I put up with it. The judge calls myself and my wife into court to make sure everything is clear, and rejects my £2500 worth of financial agreement out of hand, as it's completely unsuitable. Now, of course, I'm trying to contest their charges and get them to put their mistakes right for no extra charge. In the process of this, I've requested a breakdown of their charges, which I've received. It made for extremely entertaining reading. Some of my favourite parts included:

A total of £80 or so, charged for drawing up my bills over the period. They are charging the time they spend charging me what they're charging me? Awesome!

After the court hearing, I instructed my solicitor not to take any further action, since I felt he wasn't handling the case competently, and to wait to hear from me. The bill includes a charge the next day for time spent having a meeting with his boss to say "Oh Shit, Sammy is really upset!" and to have her look over the file, and then a charge for her to write me an unsolicited letter saying, essentially, "Sorry you're pissed off, but we're not going to do anything about it".

Lots of charges for "Perusal and Preparation". I wondered why, in a 6 week period where, to my knowledge, he had done nothing, he managed to charge me £800. It appears that every few days, he got my file out, had a bit of a read through, and then put it away again, charging me between £16 and £80 for the privelege.

These last three belong together, and are my personal favourites in a bill that ought to be eligible for the Orange prize for fiction.

18th December - £16:50 for "receiving letter from court". This letter was six lines long, and said that my ex and I had to appear, and the date. By my reckoning, allowing for him to have a hard time opening the envelope, the 6 minutes he billed me gave him time to read that letter 25 times. Despite that, however, he didn't manage to understand the part where I was supposed to appear as well. So........

19th December - £16.50 for "letter to client". This was another 5 liner, telling me that there was a court date set, but that I didn't have to appear. Stapled to the back of it was the order from the court, saying that I DID have to appear.

20th December - £16.50 for "call from client". This was me phoning up to say "Your letter says I don't have to appear, but the court letter says I do. You've made a mistake, haven't you?". So, a total of £49.50 for misreading a letter, advising me wrong, and then taking a call confirming that he'd fucked up.


I can only conclude that I'm in completely the wrong job, and look on open mouthed as they try to charge me a further £450 for work undertaken, and estimate that the cost to bring the job to a close will probably be "less than £1000". Click "I like this" if you think I should go on a brief killing spree. Surely no court in the land would convict me?
(, Fri 16 Feb 2007, 14:12, Reply)
Reminded by the signed parsley story from last week...
While vistint my grandparents and uncle/auntie in Edinburgh as a child, I was taken to a restaurant. It was large and posh and my mum had made us dress properly... *scowl and stamp foot*

The Lasange and chips piqued my interest... I wasn't at the age where i realised that a good steak was fun, I knew what I liked and i was having it.

The adults were talking and drinking, my brother and I were bored, and it was then that
my brother handed me a chip and said "eat it"... I tried.

You'd be amazed how painful it is when you chomp on a chip placed vertically in your mouth... and find that it has a toothpick inserted into it along it's length. Relaising that we'd be in trouble i stifled my yelp, and drank coke until the bleeding stopped.

We giggled, and for no apparent reason decided to put a toothpick in each and every remaining chip on the plate. My brother got our dad to eat one and after being bollocked for being irresponsible little bastards, we sat in silence awaiting pudding.

Main course was cleared away, and we waited in morose and dutiful silence for what the pretty waitress had said was the "stickyest most chocolaty chocolate pudding in scotland"

Just as the chocolate pudding arrived, and just as my brother and i were looking at each other with a look that said "This is just a chocolate sponge-cake..." the respectful silence of the psh restruarnt was broken by a yelp... a scream, and then 5 second later a big scary hairy bastard shouting "WHY IS THERE TOOTH-PECKS IN MAH WHIFE'S FUCKING CHEPPS???"

I suspect that was the last time they re-cycled food in that restaurant... the cheap-skate bastards.
(, Thu 15 Feb 2007, 18:21, Reply)
Blag of a lifetime
TRUE STORY: Outside Bristol Zoo there is a carpark where cars and coaches can park. There was also a nice bloke with a hat and ticket machine charging cars £1 and coaches £5.This parking attendent worked there for about 25 years , then one day didn't turn up for work...Ho hum say Bristol Zoo management- Better phone up Bristol City Council and get them to send a new parking attendant......
Er no say the Council...That car park is your responsibility...Er no say Bristol Zoo the attendant was employed by you wasn't he....Er NO!!!!
Sitting in his villa in Spain is bloke who had been taking the car park takings for Bristol Zoo for the last 25 years...

RESULT!!!
(, Mon 19 Feb 2007, 15:01, Reply)
Train Ticket Ripoff - The Drivers point of view...
So I get up at 3am to drive in a -3 degree winter snowstorm down a major South East motorway which the lazy highways agency hasn't bothered to grit, dispite 3 days warning of snow.

Did I mention it was 3am?

So I get to work, on time, park in a poorly secured staff car park, walk half a mile to my workplace to present myself for work, signing a legal document that absolves the company of any liabiliy should I make a mistake and find out where my train is.

Sadly, the train is still not ready for service, as the night before, several people decided to vomit all over the carriages because they'd had too much to drink. Also, the cleaning staff were still trying to unblock the toilets, remove syringes and remove 3 tons of old newspapers, mc-wrappers and empty cans of stella from every concievable location on board the train.

Once my train is ready for service, I sit in a tiny cab, using techology that is 20 years old (and up until 2 years ago, the train was 40 years old) and attempt to keep to a timetable drawn up by people who have no clue what real life actual is (i.e. civil servants).

And all this to ensure that 1,500 people get to work on time. That's 1.5k people on one train, all the sole responsibility of me, the driver (so stick that where the sun don't shine, Mr 474 pilot).

But wait... I have deranged people trying to kill themselves (messy) and pikey scum trying to kill everyone else by stealing copper cables that run signals and other things that tend to stop death and mayhem. I have drunken idiots (at 10am) pulling emergency cords at 100mph because they wanted to get off three stations ago. I have managers dreaming up ever more efficient ways of ensuring we '110% perform' and 'deliver customer synergy while enforcing customer satisfaction to a quantifiable level'.

And the next time I get spat upon by some commuter because the train is 10 minutes late, due to some children have decided to throw a paving slab off a bridge at an oncoming train for a *laugh*...

I'd like to apologise for the length, but I can't be bothered. If you've voted New Labour since 1997, ask why the railways haven't been re-nationalised (like they promised). The sole reason train fares are aparently so high is that the majority of people voted in idiots who while proclaiming to be 'with the people' are actually shareholders in the private companies who now monopolise the railway franchises.

(So don't have a go at the staff on the ground... we're only trying to do our jobs...)

END OF RANT
(, Sun 18 Feb 2007, 1:38, Reply)
Luxor museum giftshop
Having been warned about street venders selling shite relics and artifacts, my wife and I decided we would only buy a memento from our trip to Egypt from a reputable source. On visiting Luxor museum we saw the gift shop and knew this was it. Obviously inside the museum the quality of the ornaments were significantly better than all the toothless bastards were selling in the bazaars. The Captain on our boat had primed me with the fact that black statues in Egypt are made from basalt but you should always check that it is carved from a solid piece and not from powder poured into a mold. To do this you should check the base for small bubbles. Armed with this information I approached the shop manager and asked to see his lovely bust of Tutankhamen in his window. On picking up this superior piece of craftsmanship, I turned it over as instructed by my trusty teacher, in order to see if there were any of the said naughty bubbles in the base. On seeing me do this the shop manager said 'ah you are a man of knowledge I can see but do not worry yourself Sir, this is Luxor museum and we only sell top quality merchandise'. It was top notch, I knew it, he knew it and even his mankey cat which ate flies knew it.

This man knew he was dealing with a pro but I was still amazed how easily he caved into my hard bartering technique. £12 I got it for and I'll never forget him saying on my leaving his shop 'ah Englishman you break my heart'. The Arab buffoons had met their match.

On getting home my trusty and prize King Tut, my wife decided it was a little dusty and decided to give it a wash. After three scrubs with soapy water, the black colouring started to come off and after 10 minutes scrubbing all was revealed. My pride and joy King Tut effigy was in fact carved from an 'effing house brick that had been dyed with boot-polish. What made it worse was it said "made in Leeds" on the back.

Itís so shite an ornament that itís ace and has been given pride of place in my home. It is my homage to Western gullibility and prejudice.

No apologies for the length or girth as I am Welsh.
(, Thu 15 Feb 2007, 21:37, Reply)
Clock this
Back in the days when car speedometers had dials not digital displays, as a friend opened the back of one to *ahem* adjust it, a small handwritten piece of paper fluttered out which read "Oh no, not again!"
(, Wed 21 Feb 2007, 9:51, Reply)
Beans on fucking toast?
Little, almost pyrrhic victories are the best..

So.. at East Midlands Airport, red eye flight, looking for something to set me up for the journey, fancied beans on toast. Looked at the menu... beans on toast £2.95. Hmm a trifle expensive for 1/2 tin catering standard (i.e. microbeans, uberhard, brown not red tomato 'gravy', soggy white non descript bread).
Exploring other options I come across 'extras'..two pieces of toast 90p, beans 95p., net saving £1.10.
That'll do nicely.
"Beans and toast please" (employee makes to slop industrial beans on unbuttered toast)
"woah, hold on there fella, I want to butter my toast first, or your overly sloppy microbean juice will impregnate my bread, with soggy effect". (Employee growls, looks for bowl, slops beans contemptuously into bowl, flings toast onto plate)
Get to the till... "£2.95"
"What..why?"
"Beans on toast, £2.95"
"But the beans aren't on the toast, they're in a separate bowl, that's beans with toast, and that's two extras"
"Nope, that's beans on toast"
"In what way are my beans on my toast?" (Queue starting to build)..
"Oh, alright, £1.85 then"
So.... 'On' costs £2.95.. 'and' costs £1.85.

Top tip. I must get out more.
Beating the cheeky fucks at their own game is fun though..
(, Fri 16 Feb 2007, 15:21, Reply)
I once baught a printer from Staples with £20 in real money,
and £140 in counterfeit £20s. Fake twenties I had printed on a printer I had bought there the day before. A printer they had sold me, I had got it home, found it to have a dodgy paper feeder, and Staples refused to take it back.

However, when I bought the original printer, I noticed that staples didn't even check the cash given to them 'cause I counted it out infront of them. The clerk just grabbed the notes and stuck 'em in the register. So I decided to be audacious. The dodgy printer would still print, but it would crease and tear the bottom portion of the page, and not drop it in the tray, jamming the next page. But it sufficed for me to scan a £20 back and front, and run off a bunch of bills on a stock of paper that resembled cash. After scrunching them up to different degrees and writing a phone number on one for extra authenticity, I went to staples. I took the very same kind of printer to the counter. I counted out the 7 fake notes and one real one on the top (just in case they decided to check one) and the cashier just stuffed the whole wad into the till without checking any of them. And that is the story of how I counter-robbed staples for robbing me.

I have plenty more stories, but I don't feel like typing them out right now.
(, Fri 16 Feb 2007, 4:14, Reply)
Blank CDs
I remember a few years back, my friend and I wanted a bit of money so we devised the highly original idea of copying computer games and selling them at a market well-known for this trade. However, we were lazy and decided in the end we couldn't be bothered copying one game onto 30-40 discs, it would simply take too long. So we just decided to sell blank discs and pretend they had games on them.

This also meant we could effectively sell games that didn't exist, or weren't out yet. So I scanned in some PS2 game covers (eg. GTA Vice City - long before it was relased on PC; and some other PS2 exclusive games) and I modified the covers to say "PC CD-Rom". Then we found an empty stall which a few hours later we got thrown off for not paying for and sold the games for £5 each, mainly to 10 year olds.

I like to think we made a lot of children cry that day.
(, Sun 18 Feb 2007, 18:39, Reply)
12 Angry Men
My friend Tim was a Racquel Darian fan. She is some kind of pornographic actress.
Tim went to a speciality shop in Soho and asked if he had any videos starring Racquel.
"No problem" was the reply.
The guy disappeared downstairs for a couple of minutes, and came back with a video cassette with "Racquel Darian Hot Porn" hand written on the label. Tim handed over £30 and the deal was done.
A few of us were invited over to watch the film which turned out to be called "12 Man Jerk Off", and entailed 12 old men that knocked one out over the head of a clinically obese lady with a bad haircut. When they'd finished with their lady friend they started on each other.
The worst thing was that Tim admitted after we had left he still tried to be the 13th man "but it just wasn't happening".
(, Thu 15 Feb 2007, 17:02, Reply)
A certain Italian car company...
I was en route to a date in my then three year old Italian saloon with a name that sounds a lot like "Awful Romeo", when it died on me by the side of the road and refused to restart. Anyway, as luck would have it I was 300 yards from the main agent dealer in Chelmsford so I left the car by the road, went for the date and had the car towed the short distance in the morning.

I popped up to the service desk and explained the problem and left my keys with them before going on my way and preparing for a large repair bill.

Anyway, by the Wednesday I'd heard sod all, so I gave them a call:

Me: "I'm calling to see how you're getting on with V*****D as I haven't heard anything?"
Service Monkey: "Oh, we've got no record of that car here".
Me: "WTF!?"
Service Monkey: "Are you sure it's here?"
Me: "I suggest you get your manager immediately!"

Turned out the Johnny No-Stars who'd taken my keys forgot to tell anyone my car was there. After physically searching their car park, they found it.

Service Monkey: "Is your car registration V*****D? We've, ah located it in the car park"
Me: "What's the news?"
Service Monkey: "Well there are nine other Awful Romeos which broke down since and they're all newer than yours so we haven't got round to looking at it yet. Probably next week I'm afraid"
Me: "So you mean to tell me that you had a strange car in your car park for four days before anyone noticed, because someone forgot to inform the service department and that it's now my problem that I have to wait because of your inability to count?"
Service Monkey "Is you car still under warranty sir?"
Me: "It's a month out of fucking warranty! I suggest you fetch your manager immediately."

Anyway, I get the car back on Friday after being stung for a bill of £300. What had they found? Turned out the earthing point had corroded, so some spanner monkey unbolted it, sanded it a bit and bolted it up again. Three hundred fucking sniffs...

The dealership manager lost his sense of humour when I asked if dinner and champagne with his fetching lady service receptionist was incluced and suggested that he fired his service monkey who advised "Well you really should expect problems with an Awful Romeo".

No refund or discount later, I was contacted by Awful's head office.

"How would you rate the standard of service from ### in Chelmsford?"
"Dismal, surly, cynical, disorganised, poorly trained and obscenely expensive".

Again, I walked away with fuck all. Since then my car has developed an appetite for air-mass meters. At first it was amusing, but it's on it's fifth and the cost of replacements escalates by £20 per year. They're now £210 for a piece of plastic pipe with a wire in it. Bizarrely a piece of metal which holds the suspension together and wears out quickly due to piss-poor bearings was replaced for £26. But a year on the same part now costs £52. Someone obviously saw an opportunity there...

The most interesting thing is that Italian engineers have been specially trained to construct a part which will fail exactly two weeks outside of warranty expiry (the last three air mass meters have done this).

Then there is the radiator. A simple device for cooling an engine, but in an Awful Romeo they corrode and last five years before they have to be replaced at stupid cost. I pity the poor people who bought them with "Selespeed" gearboxes (which have push buttons to change gear, so you can feel like Michael Schumacher in your front wheel drive saloon). Apparently it's not a case of "if" it will break expensively, but "when". £2k gearbox rebuild, just out of warranty? Yep.

Cunts, cunty, cunting rip-off merchant, simian employing, cunts.

I'm now boycotting pasta.
(, Thu 15 Feb 2007, 17:36, Reply)
Glitish Brass
I was supposed to but I didn't.

Believe it or not, there was a time when some of the people helping you change your gas and electricity weren't complete shits. This was, however, a brief window of about six weeks, coinciding with my employment.*

Being a nice person, temporarily out of a job, I thought I'd give it a go for a few weeks. It sounded good to be able to help people save money. Believe me peeps, I really did believe that was what I was doing. I was scrupulously honest, and had a pretty good time for a few weeks, always telling people if switching wouldn't help, never forcing anyone (I wouldn't know how) and just kind of getting on with it. I made ok money, never loads like some people, and enjoyed meeting new people. It was fun.

Until I started to realise that I never, no matter what I did, made as many conversions as my colleagues. I didn't mind that, really, but I was intrigued as to how they did it. We each spoke to the same number of people, each did the same hours.. What was going on? It all became horribly clear when one colleague asked me to hold his clipboard while he filled in a few last details. NaÔve and curious, I asked what he'd missed. 'Signatures', he said. This charm deficient scum was forging application forms, based on real people's details -' I just need your name for this survey love, just to show my boss I've been talking to people. No, course you don't need to sign anything'.

Torn by fear of a knife in the neck if I snitched, and my basic honesty, I managed to get the words out and tell my Manager. I'd like to say that the perpetrator was sacked on the spot, that each of the people he'd dealt with was contacted and told to check their suppliers, that his commission was withheld. I'd love to say that, but no. I was told that 'sometimes, you have to be a bit creative' and while I was never actually, explicitly told to lie or forge, it was certainly implied. So I quit, there and then, and am proud that I did.


*If anyone reading this begs to differ and thinks that any of these people are decent and honest please either a) tell them they are in the wrong job now before they have to work it out for themselves from the gnawing self hatred that gradually overwhelms them or b) if it's you, Leave. you will feel better, you will stop feeling like you need to be disinfected after work. Leave, now.
(, Thu 15 Feb 2007, 17:00, Reply)
New Years Eve And Pubs..
.
I love my pubs. Wherever I live I always find a local that I like and that gets most of my, not inconsiderable, trade. I normally have a few pints - between three and four most nights. Thatís about a tenner a night or £70 a week. £3500 a year.

And then new Years Eve rolls round and the bastards try to charge you. Yes - charge you anything up to £20 for the privilege of paying yet more money to drink in a hideously over-crowded pub. Now *thatís* a fucking rip-off.

It was tried a few years ago in my local in Manchester. We locals argued and argued with the landlord that we shouldn't have to pay - we supported the pub day-in, day-out unlike the hordes of once-a-year-piss-heads but he wouldn't budge. So we did. About 40 out of 60 locals decamped from the pub and moved a few yards up the street to a more reasonable pub with a decent landlord. Rip-off landlord had a good New Years Eve and then went bust three months later.

You can't run a pub if you piss your regulars off.

Pint Power!

Cheers
(, Sun 18 Feb 2007, 14:49, Reply)
Thick as pigshit
I've been ripped off a fair few times but none gave me such entertainment value as this one. It almost made it worth it.

Way down south I used to live round the corner from a nice wee one-stop store which was run by some fairly pleasant staff with the exception of one fucking moron who was a walking advert for what happens when small-town siblings marry.

The guy wasn't nasty, just lazy, disinterested, and above all, fucking thick.

It wasn't as if he had the excuse of being disabled in some way, but if brains was shit he was wouldn't even have a sniff.

One night I popped round for a few bottles of wine, only to be dismayed upon seeing the shit-witted little closet-case behind the counter. Two bottles each costing a fiver. He took a £20 note off me and handed me back £5.

"Excuse me mate," I said you've short-changed me here."

"Oh . . . . well, I've alredy put it through the till," he moaned, looking at me as though that'd be enough to make me go away.

"But you owe me owe me £5," I said firmly.

"Well . . . I can't get it. It's in the till," he murmured, again shrugging and expecting me to just let him have my money. But I was going nowhere. It's the principle!

By now a queue was forming in the previously empty shop behind me. Fuck, I thought, this isn't looking good. The lone Scotsman causing trouble in a smalltown middle English shop and holding up the line. They're bound to hate me.
But I felt a swell of pride when suddenly a rough-looking gent behind me stepped in: "No! you overcharged this guy, you're legally obliged to give him his money back. Open the till and give him his money!"
The sheepish little dwarf behind the counter then hung his head and told his shoes: "I . . .I don't know how."

Suddenly it was like talking to a child. I felt a pang of sympathy for a guy who, although he'd proven his buffoonery on many occasions, was perhaps just having a bad day.

"Perhaps there's someone else here who does?" I asked.

Appearing to summon a mammoth effort on his energy reserves, he leaned over to the intercom next to him and slouched his shoulders, and wailed like a poilt child: "Rose . . .Rose . . . Come here. I need your help. . . Please I need you. . . Please."

Within seconds the friendly manager had made it through to the front shaking her head: "Don't worry about it. You deal with the other customers, and I'll give this man a refund."

What came next nearly floored me.

In what once more seemed like a titanic effort just to speak, he now seemed on the verge of tears: "Please Rose . . . Please. can't I just go and sweep the floor again?"

The whole shop was stunned. Not content to simply be the village idiot who had plagued us for years, he was now having some sort of very public breakdown with no regard for where he was or who was watching.

The manager was obviously embarrased for him now and became a little sterner but still warm: "No. There's a queue of customers. Just serve them."

But he wasn't done. **Shaking his head and looking at the ground**: "Please, . . . why. . why can't I just sweep the floors?"

"No!" the manager told him. "Just do your job."
Fuck me, I thought. Rain Man's having a breakdown right in front of us all.
At this point I'd been given the refund and was on my way out but I couldn't believe the way he'd acted.

I felt bad just for having to stand witness to it though, until a few weeks later in the pub I bumped into the guy who'd stood up for me. As a lifelong village resident he'd know for sure if the kid was perhaps "special".

"Nah," he replied. "He's just fucking thick."

Last I heard some friends down there said he's still working in that shop, and he's STILL displaying traits from the shallow end of the gene pool.

I guess some poor fuckers are just doomed by their own ineptness
(, Fri 16 Feb 2007, 12:38, Reply)
I hired Richard Branson to do a comedy routine

but it was just a load of lame puns.

In fact some of them were virgin on the ridiculous.
(, Sun 18 Feb 2007, 21:22, Reply)
Tight-arsed monkeys, the lot of you!!
On the other side of the coin, and without wanting to open up the can of worms that is rail travel prices, I regularly have a conversation with customers along these lines...

Me (Rail ticket selling phone monkey): Good evening, how can I help?

Customer: I'd like to buy a train ticket please, I want the cheapest.

M: Certainly. Can I ask where you're travelling from and to?

C: Yes I want the cheapest ticket, I'm going from A to B. But I do want to buy the cheapest ticket.

M: No problem. Is it a single or a return?

C: Is a single cheaper than a return? I do want the cheapest ticket.

M: A single will be less than a return.

C: A single then. I want the cheapest ticket.

M: So you don't need to travel back from B to A by train?

C: Yes I do but I want the cheapest ticket.

M: Probably best to look at it as a return journey then.

C: But do it as 2 singles though, because that will be cheaper. I want the cheapest ticket.

M: *sigh* I know they are sir, but I can look at the journey for you as a whole.

C: As long as it's the cheapest ticket. I want to buy the cheapest ticket.

M: No problem. What dates and times would you prefer to travel?

C: The cheapest date. I want to buy the cheapest ticket.


M: I appreciate that sir, but it is a half hourly service between A and B for about 18 hours a day and we can book tickets up to about 3 months in advance.

C: When is it usually cheapest. I want to buy the cheapest ticket.


M: The further in advance you book, generally speaking it will cost less.

C: OK then I need to travel out (this date) and back on (that one), but I do want the cheapest ticket.

M: And what time on each day would you like to travel?

C: What's the cheapest time? It's the cheapest ticket I'm looking for.

M: The middle of the day will, as a rule generally cost less.

C: That's no good, I need to go out at (busiest time of day) and come back at (slap bang fucking sod in the middle of peak time). What is the cheapest ticket on those trains, because I want the cheapest ticket.

M: On those trains it would be £blah, however if you can travel at (slightly different time each way) then it would cost you £lowest-possible-price-that-money-can-buy.

C: And is that the cheapest.

M: Yes sir that is the cheapest.

C: You don't have anything cheaper? I want the cheapest ticket.

M: No sir, that is the cheapest.

C: Would it cost less if I travelled at a different time? I want to buy the cheapest ticket.


M: No sir. That is the lowest possible cost for a ticket for that journey.

C: Are any of the trains discounted? I am looking for the cheapest ticket.

M: No sir, that is the cheapest.

C: Could I save money on any of these tickets in any way. I want to buy the cheapest ticket.

M: *sigh again* No sir, that is the cheapest ticket.

C: I think I'll leave it, that's quite expensive.

M: Thank you sir, do call again.
(, Sat 17 Feb 2007, 12:41, Reply)
drugs ripoff
before i knew him well enough to admit to anything myself, the bedsh1tter once made me drive him down to coldharbour lane so he could "score".

turned out his idea of scoring was to hang around lamely until he was able to spend £50 on something he thought might be an "E".

so we got it home and i unwrapped it. i said i had never seen a brown E and he told me i was being stupid. i told him i had never seen a short, skinny, brown, wooden E with a red end that could be used to light a fire and that had been broken into pieces and wrapped in clingfilm. then i asked him who was the truly stupid one...

i spent the rest of the night laughing and saying things like "you've really met your match" and "you really struck out this time" and "bet this really burns you up".

well, i thought it was funny!
(, Thu 15 Feb 2007, 19:01, Reply)
Not me, but my daughter.
Since she's half my DNA, though, I can use her story.

There is a girl she dislikes intensely (as one would expect with 13-year-old girls), and at school they do their best to make each other miserable.

So one day my daughter pays a friend five dollars to steal the other girl's clothes while she's in gym class, and hides the clothes in an obscure corner of the locker room. Result: the enemy girl had to wear her gym clothes for the rest of the day.

The next day there's an announcement over the loudspeakers that a ten dollar reward is being offered for information as to where the girl's clothes are. My daughter marches to the office and reports that she saw some clothes in an obscure corner of the locker room. She's given the reward, and goes back to her class.

In other words, she humiliated the girl and made five dollars profit in the process. And made her enemy pay it to her. Devious and vicious, and I pity whoever else she decides to take a disliking to.

I know I shouldn't be as proud of her for that as I am, but what can I say? She takes after her dad...
(, Tue 20 Feb 2007, 16:06, Reply)
When I was about 12 years old
One of my best mates lived next door to a really fit girl about 10 years older than us.
On a hot summer day he charged me and three other mates £3 each to watch her sunbathe nude in her back garden from his bedroom window. For nearly 2 hours we sat and watched her arse as she lay on her stomach until it went overcast and she covered up and went indoors.

Needless to say, none of us saw the fanny side
(, Fri 16 Feb 2007, 15:45, Reply)
Flying North West Airlines.....
Had a month long holiday with the ex back in 1999. We lived in Hong Kong and decided to do a huge trip over to New York for New Years Eve via Tokyo, Hawaii and Minneapolis/St Paul then on to Vancouver for two weeks ski-ing.

Every bloody flight was cancelled or delayed during the entire trip. On the final return leg upon arriving back in Minneapollis they announced the cancellation of the flight to Tokyo- so I quite rightly demanded a decent hotel to sleep in (having felt completely ripped off for the cost of the flight). I also demanded they pay for my food and drink- after a bit of an argument they relented (the fools!).

Forward my walking into the hotel bar and saying 'Drinks are on me' to the entire place.

$800 odd bucks later I went to bed. They weren't too impressed in the morning, serves them right for being such a shit airline.

Girth? Pah!
(, Thu 15 Feb 2007, 17:55, Reply)
beware of great gas offer
When i had my first house i was allways strapped for cash. so when a bloke knocked on the door in what looked like a britsh gas uniform i showed him the outside meter - 10 mins later he knocked again - "i can make a change so you dont pay for the gad" - woo hoo!!! - 50 quid and never a bill to pay again, it was winter and this sounded sooo good. i paid, and waited. 40 mins later the guy knocks on the door - but now im nervous, how do i know its been done? - i put all the gas rings on, the heating and he shows me the meeting aint turning!!!!!! - smug with myself i pay the man and turn the heating up!

2 days later gas stops - i look outside, i follow a pipe - then it becomes clear - i dig a little and find a small calor gas tank buried in the garden just under the meter - the bloke had disconected the gas and connected a small gas tank which was now empty. i had to call british gas to sort it out - it took a lot of explaining.

beware offers that are too good to be true, usually are. but greed will keep us going.

i still chuckle at a) my stupidity b) the guys front for and catch me if you can style c) the fact i know it cant just of hapened to me.
(, Wed 21 Feb 2007, 15:55, Reply)
I'm fucking sick of him
apeloverage.
I feel ripped off by him. I (occasionally) put a bit of thought and effort into my posts but haven't, as of yet, been put on the 'best of' page. Obviously I wouldn't mind because most other stories are clearly better than mine, but I can't seem to get my head around the fact that apeloverage seems to get on the 'best of' page every week by writing a 2 line "story" that has fuck all to do with the question.

So please, for christs sake, stop clicking 'I like this' on his posts or, better yet, apeloverage, just stop posting.


Length? It was justified.
(, Sun 18 Feb 2007, 21:35, Reply)
B3ta...
.
Actually, when you think about it, B3ta's a bit of a rip-off. I mean it was Web 2.0 before Web 2.0 was invented. Almost everything on here is user generated content.

The QOTW week answers are supplied by us and Rob et al have even made a fucking book out of jokes sent in by us!

The boards are all the hard work of the graphic-typr people, the links are all supplied by other B3tans and the only thing the B3tan Elite have to do is suggest a new topic every week - and they can't even do that on time!!!

What a fucking rip-off!!

That said, B3ta brightens up my week. The stuff on the Front Page makes me giggle like a loon. The links provide me with endless amusement and the QOTW week was what started me writing. So if Rob and the mob can make a few quid off keeping B3ta free and then fair play to them. They could have easily gone down the route of the Something Awful forums where you have to pay a fucking membership fee in order to be able to post.

B3ta a rip-off? - Nah. Not when you think of those grasping bastards at Something Awful.

Cheers
(, Sun 18 Feb 2007, 15:04, Reply)
Because I'm a Britisher...
...a few years ago I owned part of a national rail service that worked pretty well and took people where they wanted to go when they wanted to go there for a reasonable price.

Then, without anyone asking me what I thought, it all got sold off to a set of multinational banks and private companies who now offer me a worse service for far more money, in order that their shareholders and directors can enjoy big dividends and bonuses. I regularly have to endure computers telling me they are "VERY. sorry. for the. SEVERE. delay. to my service" and endure people who never travel on the trains they run telling me that overcrowding is good for me. I've been well and truely ripped-off like a bloody kipper.

This story isn't funny, I know, but then neither is handing over £15 to First Group every day for the privilige of travelling on the Chav Express.
(, Fri 16 Feb 2007, 11:11, Reply)
Sucker!
I'm such a sucker and would happily buy some magic beans if someone offered to sell me some.

A few years ago I got a letter from some company saying that I was going to be included in a book called "Who's Who of Britain's Young Business Elite" (I own my own company you see). To get a personalised listing and a copy of the book I had to pay them something like £60.

Being the complete sucker I am, I duly sent off my £60. Low and behold, a month or 2 later, the book arrived. It obviously had sod all to do with the real Who's Who books and was simply some dodgy company getting a list of company directors from Companies House and spamming them all.

I occasionally come across it on the bookshelf and it reminds me of what a tosser I am.
(, Thu 15 Feb 2007, 16:56, Reply)
top tip
Never EVER try to ride hom drunk on your bike while needing a pis.

If you happen to be advenurous type, there's a really big big chance that you'll try to pee while riding.

couple this with a passing police car and a strange will to appera normal, and you're going to effectively piss in your trousers, down your leg, and fill your shoes with wee.

Now... for mose ptopel this is just a good laugh, and a story to tell the grand-kids (assuming you're not going to get killed ina silly weekend drinking accident).. but here it's minus 10 degrees C.

"Funny" now means cracking your piss-covered and frozen trousers off your shin before you can get out of them.

never before have i actually taken jeans off, and heard them make creaking noises as the frozen wee cracks.

as my laces were undone, i needed to rip them off the top of te shoes.. that made me think of posting here. rip-vans-tinkle. marvellous.

FYI... frozen piss-shoes don't smell. They only smell when you thaw them. My shoes are now in the freezer :D
(, Sat 17 Feb 2007, 23:35, Reply)
Hmm
I keep paying all this money to this group of geezers. I have no choice really, they'll do pretty horrible things to me if I don't. You could say that it's demanding money with menaces, and this lot have big menaces let me tell you.

I am told that the money they are taking is for my own good, that they'll see it all gets to the right right people and that, by forking over to them, I am helping the community at large (not that I can see jack shit of a difference).

And who are these people? The Government, namely Labour. The cunts. 30%+ if my wage goes to funding illegal wars, torture, white elephants like the Olympics, back-handers to the private sector, bribes to foreign leaders, vast sums to feckless wasters who can't be fucked to get a job, the EU, PFI/PPP and Christ knows what else the twats are getting away with.

THAT my friends, is a rip off.
(, Thu 15 Feb 2007, 20:06, Reply)
I do the ripping off.
I stopped at a convenience store once and there was a 14 or 15 year old girl standing by the door. She asked me if I'd buy her a pack of smokes. Being the nice guy that I am, I took her $10 and went inside. I bought my stuff (a few chocolate bars) and her smokes, paid for it with the money she gave me and went outside.

After getting the cigarettes, she asked for the change (the pack cost about $5). I told her there was a service charge, got into my car and drove off.

I always think of that day as a great life lesson for the young girl.
(, Thu 15 Feb 2007, 17:43, Reply)
Mobile phone bill
Me: "Hello? I'm VERY angry. I've been charged literally DOUBLE. Its lucky I add up my calls".

O2: *sounds bored* "Your statement has two sides, Sir. Have you turned it over?"

"Of COURSE I've turned it over. Do you think I'm STUPID?"

*turn over statement*

"Um... look I haevn't got time for this right now, good day".
(, Sat 17 Feb 2007, 10:16, Reply)
British Gas bill for no gas!
My parents old house was all electric and the gas pipe stopped before their driveway about 10 metres from the house.

So one day the doorbell goes and the gas man complains the meter isn't outside can he come in and read it. Knowing there isn't one and he might be a perv my 13 year old brain says "No!" and he tells me he'll have to estimate the bill then.

In due course a bill arrives for a gas connection we don't even have. Then the red bill, then the black one threatening court action. My Dad is loving it and looking forward to a court appearance.

Until the touchy feely lady from the gas board knocks on the door to ask;
"Are you having trouble paying the bill?"
"No"
"Why haven't you paid it then?"
"I don't think we have to."
Now she looks a little self righteous,
"So why do you think you don't have to pay your bill when everyone else does?"
"We don't have gas."

She clearly wasn't expecting this. In fact I don't think she believed it. So I said, "Dad says he's looking forward to going to court and making you lot look like plonkers!".

Sadly they withdrew their court action and Dad never got his day.

However it's proof that British Gas will try and bill anyone.
(, Fri 16 Feb 2007, 11:20, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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