Complaining
I like writing letters of complaint to companies containing the words "premier league muppetry", if only to give the poor office workers a good laugh on an otherwise dull day. Have you ever complained? Did it work?
( , Thu 2 Sep 2010, 13:16)
I like writing letters of complaint to companies containing the words "premier league muppetry", if only to give the poor office workers a good laugh on an otherwise dull day. Have you ever complained? Did it work?
( , Thu 2 Sep 2010, 13:16)
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A long time ago, my Grandparents drove the Monte Carlo rally
this would have been just after the second War, before kids bogged them down.
My grandmother came flying around a mountain bend, Gramps navigating, to be confronted by a Bentley across the road. And by across the road it meant bumper up against the cliff face, boot hanging precariously over the edge of the mountain.
"I say old bean," says an appropriately plummy character as my grandparents pull up, "don't suppose you could help us out a bit, could you?"
With a gentlemanly smile, my grandfather rolled up his sleeves, leant in, undid the handbrake and with one shoulder shove, sent the Bentley tipping over the cliff edge. Before the gobsmacked driver could give vent to his complaint, he was told "There's a race on, and you're holding me up."
He was bedgrudgingly given a lift to the bottom of the mountain ("despite the weight he added", I'm told). Upon stepping out, he thanked my grandparents curtly and added as a parting comment:
"If you ever come to Austria I will have you shot. Good day."
( , Tue 7 Sep 2010, 20:08, 5 replies)
this would have been just after the second War, before kids bogged them down.
My grandmother came flying around a mountain bend, Gramps navigating, to be confronted by a Bentley across the road. And by across the road it meant bumper up against the cliff face, boot hanging precariously over the edge of the mountain.
"I say old bean," says an appropriately plummy character as my grandparents pull up, "don't suppose you could help us out a bit, could you?"
With a gentlemanly smile, my grandfather rolled up his sleeves, leant in, undid the handbrake and with one shoulder shove, sent the Bentley tipping over the cliff edge. Before the gobsmacked driver could give vent to his complaint, he was told "There's a race on, and you're holding me up."
He was bedgrudgingly given a lift to the bottom of the mountain ("despite the weight he added", I'm told). Upon stepping out, he thanked my grandparents curtly and added as a parting comment:
"If you ever come to Austria I will have you shot. Good day."
( , Tue 7 Sep 2010, 20:08, 5 replies)
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