Profile for Captain Wow:
Methinks that b3ta boys protest too much
always discussing cock and such
I doubt there's really anything
They crave more than a ding-a-ling
Especially a famous root
a well known username to boot
In short, they all bum each other
and just pretend to hate one another.
www.kuzimu.co.uk
I play bass, think PS3s are better than 360s, would rather be on a rollercoaster than anywhere else and am easily annoyed.
Bacon sandwiches are good, roast lamb is also good, you might be as good but it's doubtful, eh?
Trek is better than you.
I've also been raised in a much better manner than most of you, which is obvious and pleasing.
Recent front page messages:
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Best answers to questions:
[read all their answers]
- a member for 19 years, 6 months and 27 days
- has posted 73441 messages on the main board
- has posted 11328 messages on the talk board
- has posted 145 messages on the links board
- (including 1 links)
- has posted 60 stories and 101 replies on question of the week
- They liked 2255 pictures, 51 links, 55 talk posts, and 160 qotw answers.
- Ignore this user
- Add this user as a friend
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Methinks that b3ta boys protest too much
always discussing cock and such
I doubt there's really anything
They crave more than a ding-a-ling
Especially a famous root
a well known username to boot
In short, they all bum each other
and just pretend to hate one another.
www.kuzimu.co.uk
I play bass, think PS3s are better than 360s, would rather be on a rollercoaster than anywhere else and am easily annoyed.
Bacon sandwiches are good, roast lamb is also good, you might be as good but it's doubtful, eh?
Trek is better than you.
I've also been raised in a much better manner than most of you, which is obvious and pleasing.
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Customers from Hell
Dear Customers of Call Centres
Hello. My name is Captain Wow, and I help to run a call centre just like the ones you phone up. Maybe I even help to run the one you phone quite often. If you work for my very large client (and over 30,000 of you do) then it'll be my team who you speak to.
I'd like to bring your attention to a few points that I'm sure, if heeded, will make both of our lives more simple and much nicer.
Number one: your mum may think you're as special as the first snowdrop of whenever it is that they grow. Jesus may count you as one of his most favourite sunbeams. All this said, to me you're just another customer, to be treated exactly the same as everyone else. I don't give a fuck how important you think you are, it's not going to help at all.
Perhaps if you're very, very nice to my agents and you've made a particularly large error (it happens) then I might waste some of my tiny budget in helping you (even though it may be bending the T+Cs to almost breaking point)... however if you're rude and labour under the VERY bloody mistaken understanding that you know the terms and conditions better than I do (and I helped set them in place) then you'll find my patience and small budget at exactly 0% capacity.
Number two: Husband/wife/daughter/son/mate/dog/vauxhall astra/skin cell of my customer, you don't count. You do in the grand scheme of things, but not as far as I'm concerned and certainly not in terms of being able to access their account. Data Protection Act, fool.
In the same way that your bank doesn't allow me to call up and say 'Hello, I'm Mrs UnderInformed and I'd like to move all my money into the account of one Mrs Captain H Wow', I'm not allowing you to do that here. It doesn't matter how much you stamp your little hooves and froth at the mouth, it won't happen. I won't allow my agents to help you and I certainly won't be doing it myself.
Number three: if you DO need to speak to a manager, the best way to get in touch is by explaining this calmly to the agent you're speaking to. I appreciate that you might be upset, but screaming 'LOOK BITCH I NEED TO SPEAK TO YOUR FUCKING SUPERVISOR NOW PUT ME THE FUCK THROUGH BEFORE I FIND YOU AND TEAR YOUR THROAT OUT' (yes I am quoting there) is probably not going to help you when you get put through to me.
That's the thing about call centre managers- we've generally moved up from being agents ourselves. This means that not ONLY are we totally unfazed by your pissy insults, but we're bloody sick to death of the useless, dickless carping. We can also make you accessing us quite difficult. There are some people my team now will not service, on my instruction, and that's not the end of it. If it's a scheme provided by your employer that you're ringing about, I can make your life very difficult indeed. A lot of employers look very unfavourably on behaviour like that, and it's not unheard of for sackings to occur. I actually think that's a bit much for just a bit of vocal impotency but never mind, eh? It's no skin off my nose if you suddenly find yourself without a pot to piss in because you couldn't behave like a grown up.
Number four: luckily I'm a nice person, so this point really doesn't apply to customers who call in to my team, but it's still a valid point. Most of the time, any agent will have your home address, telephone number, sometimes bank details, answers to most frequently used security questions..... just don't. Whatever gobshittery you're planning.....don't. Because there's always one agent ready to snap, somewhere out there. Chances are your superb example of cuntism might be the one to push them over the edge.
I may send you a second letter with more points, but I think this is more than enough for you to work on for now. So I'll bid you adieu with one final thought.
YOU RANG US.
Kind regards
Captain Wow
(Tue 9th Sep 2008, 14:06, More)
Dear Customers of Call Centres
Hello. My name is Captain Wow, and I help to run a call centre just like the ones you phone up. Maybe I even help to run the one you phone quite often. If you work for my very large client (and over 30,000 of you do) then it'll be my team who you speak to.
I'd like to bring your attention to a few points that I'm sure, if heeded, will make both of our lives more simple and much nicer.
Number one: your mum may think you're as special as the first snowdrop of whenever it is that they grow. Jesus may count you as one of his most favourite sunbeams. All this said, to me you're just another customer, to be treated exactly the same as everyone else. I don't give a fuck how important you think you are, it's not going to help at all.
Perhaps if you're very, very nice to my agents and you've made a particularly large error (it happens) then I might waste some of my tiny budget in helping you (even though it may be bending the T+Cs to almost breaking point)... however if you're rude and labour under the VERY bloody mistaken understanding that you know the terms and conditions better than I do (and I helped set them in place) then you'll find my patience and small budget at exactly 0% capacity.
Number two: Husband/wife/daughter/son/mate/dog/vauxhall astra/skin cell of my customer, you don't count. You do in the grand scheme of things, but not as far as I'm concerned and certainly not in terms of being able to access their account. Data Protection Act, fool.
In the same way that your bank doesn't allow me to call up and say 'Hello, I'm Mrs UnderInformed and I'd like to move all my money into the account of one Mrs Captain H Wow', I'm not allowing you to do that here. It doesn't matter how much you stamp your little hooves and froth at the mouth, it won't happen. I won't allow my agents to help you and I certainly won't be doing it myself.
Number three: if you DO need to speak to a manager, the best way to get in touch is by explaining this calmly to the agent you're speaking to. I appreciate that you might be upset, but screaming 'LOOK BITCH I NEED TO SPEAK TO YOUR FUCKING SUPERVISOR NOW PUT ME THE FUCK THROUGH BEFORE I FIND YOU AND TEAR YOUR THROAT OUT' (yes I am quoting there) is probably not going to help you when you get put through to me.
That's the thing about call centre managers- we've generally moved up from being agents ourselves. This means that not ONLY are we totally unfazed by your pissy insults, but we're bloody sick to death of the useless, dickless carping. We can also make you accessing us quite difficult. There are some people my team now will not service, on my instruction, and that's not the end of it. If it's a scheme provided by your employer that you're ringing about, I can make your life very difficult indeed. A lot of employers look very unfavourably on behaviour like that, and it's not unheard of for sackings to occur. I actually think that's a bit much for just a bit of vocal impotency but never mind, eh? It's no skin off my nose if you suddenly find yourself without a pot to piss in because you couldn't behave like a grown up.
Number four: luckily I'm a nice person, so this point really doesn't apply to customers who call in to my team, but it's still a valid point. Most of the time, any agent will have your home address, telephone number, sometimes bank details, answers to most frequently used security questions..... just don't. Whatever gobshittery you're planning.....don't. Because there's always one agent ready to snap, somewhere out there. Chances are your superb example of cuntism might be the one to push them over the edge.
I may send you a second letter with more points, but I think this is more than enough for you to work on for now. So I'll bid you adieu with one final thought.
YOU RANG US.
Kind regards
Captain Wow
(Tue 9th Sep 2008, 14:06, More)
» The thing I've been most ashamed of doing with a penis
thinking up qotws with it.
Love Scaryduck.
(Thu 12th Mar 2009, 12:21, More)
thinking up qotws with it.
Love Scaryduck.
(Thu 12th Mar 2009, 12:21, More)
» Pet Peeves
What do you MEAN you don't drive?!
If you've ever expressed shock that someone doesn't drive just because they're of a legal age to then- incredulous fuckrags, listen here.
I am 23. I do not drive. I walk everywhere or get the bus part of the way if time and distance dictate. Sometimes I'll cadge a lift if someone is going my way anyway. For my bus ticket I pay about sixty quid a month and that gets me most places I ever need to go. Anything else dealt with ad-hoc, but rarely.
CONSEQUENTLY I pay neither:
MOT fees
Petrol/Diesel costs
Road Tax
Car Tax
Insurance
Upkeep of sodding car
RAC or similar
I don't have to really pay much attention when on the bus, I can read, listen to music, knit if I so bastard well please. I can have a little sleepy.
....now who's the mug?
/rant over, length and width not really a problem due to being ladytype.
(Mon 5th May 2008, 1:40, More)
What do you MEAN you don't drive?!
If you've ever expressed shock that someone doesn't drive just because they're of a legal age to then- incredulous fuckrags, listen here.
I am 23. I do not drive. I walk everywhere or get the bus part of the way if time and distance dictate. Sometimes I'll cadge a lift if someone is going my way anyway. For my bus ticket I pay about sixty quid a month and that gets me most places I ever need to go. Anything else dealt with ad-hoc, but rarely.
CONSEQUENTLY I pay neither:
MOT fees
Petrol/Diesel costs
Road Tax
Car Tax
Insurance
Upkeep of sodding car
RAC or similar
I don't have to really pay much attention when on the bus, I can read, listen to music, knit if I so bastard well please. I can have a little sleepy.
....now who's the mug?
/rant over, length and width not really a problem due to being ladytype.
(Mon 5th May 2008, 1:40, More)
» Putting the Fun in Funeral
Totally and utterly true.
When myself and Mr Wow cop it and go to the great gig in the sky, we're both being buried, side by side.Both of us are to be buried with:
A hand-and-a-half sword (basically a big bastard sword that I used to use in battle re-enactment)
A crown
A laptop
A spade
A quill and parchment
Coins on our eyes
Some phylacteries (little boxes with part of the Torah in them, as far as I'm aware. I'm technically a big Jew, but I know naff all about it)
a Bible
The Qu'ran
Money (I want deutschemarks, francs, schillings, kroner, pounds and dollars)edit- I know it's all Euros now. That's the point, smartarses.
Some loo roll.
The reasoning behind this is that we want to fuck up the futuristic time team that digs us up and wants to date us. Of course they could carbon date us, but we'll all know they're cheating.
And I'm being buried in pyjamas. I want to be comfy.
No point apologising for length- it's mostly just space. If it'd been full of writing I might've, but it's not, so I won't. Arr.
(Fri 12th May 2006, 10:40, More)
Totally and utterly true.
When myself and Mr Wow cop it and go to the great gig in the sky, we're both being buried, side by side.Both of us are to be buried with:
A hand-and-a-half sword (basically a big bastard sword that I used to use in battle re-enactment)
A crown
A laptop
A spade
A quill and parchment
Coins on our eyes
Some phylacteries (little boxes with part of the Torah in them, as far as I'm aware. I'm technically a big Jew, but I know naff all about it)
a Bible
The Qu'ran
Money (I want deutschemarks, francs, schillings, kroner, pounds and dollars)edit- I know it's all Euros now. That's the point, smartarses.
Some loo roll.
The reasoning behind this is that we want to fuck up the futuristic time team that digs us up and wants to date us. Of course they could carbon date us, but we'll all know they're cheating.
And I'm being buried in pyjamas. I want to be comfy.
No point apologising for length- it's mostly just space. If it'd been full of writing I might've, but it's not, so I won't. Arr.
(Fri 12th May 2006, 10:40, More)
» Stalked
Ahhh Chris
When I was about 16 I had a brief encounter with a bloke called Chris. He was tall, dark, and a bit....worrying. But it's alright because I was very, very drunk.
The Friday night we drunkenly snogged I went home on my own, perfectly happy that I was ON MY OWN and went to bed. The next night I went out to the same bar and again, met Chris. He was very, very clingy and I had to have a quiet word along the lines of 'I was drunk, you're a bit frightening, please leave me alone'.
Fair enough, thinks I. I then walk home, this time with a big male friend who has seen the way Chris was acting and decided it'd be better for me to have a bit of company. Again, we were happy with being on our own, or so we though.
But we can't have been. Chris must have followed us.
My bedroom at my parents house was at the back, and my window looked over the flat roof of the kitchen. I went to bed that night, with the window open to allow my lovely cat to go in and out as she pleased. Mistake.
Half twoish am, I am shaken rather violently awake by Chris, who is very angry that I have ended our 'relationship' and wants an explanation.
'DAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!' Screams I, whilst kicking Chris rather hard in the shoulder (I was aiming for his head but he was at the wrong angle).
It's all alright now, I didn't see him after that night and haven't since. I think my dad holding him up against my wardrobe by his neck and explaining in great detail which bits of him will be removed if he ever goes near his precious daughter again may have helped.
Cheers,
Legsaplenty.
(Thu 31st Jan 2008, 16:23, More)
Ahhh Chris
When I was about 16 I had a brief encounter with a bloke called Chris. He was tall, dark, and a bit....worrying. But it's alright because I was very, very drunk.
The Friday night we drunkenly snogged I went home on my own, perfectly happy that I was ON MY OWN and went to bed. The next night I went out to the same bar and again, met Chris. He was very, very clingy and I had to have a quiet word along the lines of 'I was drunk, you're a bit frightening, please leave me alone'.
Fair enough, thinks I. I then walk home, this time with a big male friend who has seen the way Chris was acting and decided it'd be better for me to have a bit of company. Again, we were happy with being on our own, or so we though.
But we can't have been. Chris must have followed us.
My bedroom at my parents house was at the back, and my window looked over the flat roof of the kitchen. I went to bed that night, with the window open to allow my lovely cat to go in and out as she pleased. Mistake.
Half twoish am, I am shaken rather violently awake by Chris, who is very angry that I have ended our 'relationship' and wants an explanation.
'DAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!' Screams I, whilst kicking Chris rather hard in the shoulder (I was aiming for his head but he was at the wrong angle).
It's all alright now, I didn't see him after that night and haven't since. I think my dad holding him up against my wardrobe by his neck and explaining in great detail which bits of him will be removed if he ever goes near his precious daughter again may have helped.
Cheers,
Legsaplenty.
(Thu 31st Jan 2008, 16:23, More)