[TheForge] Fw: British Humour:(yak)(Yak) thought a few of you would enjoy this

Wed Oct 15 23:44:01 2003

Theron:  What a hoot!  have you heard the anecdote about Ian and Trevor,
members of a VERY proper British polo club?  Well......

Ian:  I say, Trevor, Have you heard that Chumley has had an affair with his
horse?

Travor:  Oh really, is it a mare?

Ian:        OF COURSE!.....Chumley's not GAY old man!

----- Original Message ----- 
From: "theron" <[email protected]>
To: <[email protected]>
Sent: Wednesday, October 15, 2003 11:06 PM
Subject: [TheForge] Fw: British Humour:(yak)(Yak) thought a few of you would
enjoy this

Message
----- Original Message ----- 
From: T. Renee
To: Theron Ross ; Joan Turlington ; Deb ; Barbara Wallace
Sent: Monday, October 13, 2003 4:16 PM
Subject: British Humour: I thought that you would enjoy this as much as did
I.

Ya Gotta Love The British!   (Keep reading -- it gets better as you
continue)

 What follows is a superb example of British humour in A LETTER THAT WAS
TRULY WRITTEN AND SENT.  The piece suggests two things:
1) Americans and Canadians are not the only ones who get poor service from
their ISP, cable and/or alarm companies. (NTL is a cable operator in
Britain).

2) The Brits probably write the world's best letters of complaint.

 Dear Cretins:

I have been an NTL customer since 9th July 2001, when I signed up for your
four-in-one deal for cable TV, cable modem, telephone, and alarm monitoring.

During this three-month period I have encountered inadequacy of service
which I had not previously considered possible, as well as ignorance and
stupidity of monolithic proportions.

Please allow me to provide specific details, so that you can either pursue
your professional prerogative and seek to rectify these difficulties -- or
more likely (I suspect) so that you can have some entertaining reading
material as you while away the working day smoking B&H and drinking
vendor-coffee on the bog in your office.

My initial installation was cancelled without warning, resulting in my
spending an entire Saturday sitting on my fat arse waiting for your
technician to arrive. When he did not arrive, I spent a further 57 minutes
listening to your infuriating hold music, and the even more annoying
Scottish robot woman telling me to look at your helpful website.  HOW?

I alleviated the boredom by playing with my testicles for a few minutes -- 
an activity at which you are no doubt both familiar and highly adept. The
rescheduled installation then took place some two weeks later, although the
technician did forget to bring a number of vital tools -- such as a
drill-bit, and his cerebrum.

Two weeks later, my cable modem had still not arrived. After 15 telephone
calls over four weeks my modem arrived, six weeks after I had requested
it -- and begun to pay for it. I estimate your internet server's downtime is
roughly 35% -- the hours between about 6 pm and midnight, Monday through
Friday, and most of the weekend. I am still waiting for my telephone
connection.

I have made nine calls on my mobile to your no-help line, and have been
unhelpfully transferred to a variety of disinterested individuals who are,
it seems, also highly skilled bollock jugglers. I have been informed that a
telephone line is available (and someone will call me back); that I will be
transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is
available (and then been cut off); that I will be transferred to someone
(and then been redirected to an answering machine informing me that your
office is closed); that I will be transferred to someone and then been
redirected to the irritating Scottish robot woman. And several other
variations on this theme.

Doubtless you are no longer reading this letter, as you have at least a
thousand other dissatisfied customers to ignore, and also another one of
those crucially important testicle moments to attend to.

Frankly I don't care. It's far more satisfying as a customer to voice my
frustrations in print than to shout them at your unending hold music.

Forgive me, therefore, if I continue.

I thought British Telecom was shit; that they had attained the holy piss-pot
of god-awful customer relations; and that no one, anywhere, ever, could be
more disinterested, less helpful or more obstructive to delivering service
to their customers. That's why I chose NTL, and because, well, there isn't
anyone else is there?

How surprised I therefore was, when I discovered to my considerable
dissatisfaction and disappointment what a useless shower of bastards you
truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of distended rectum incompetents of
the highest order.  BT -- wankers though they are -- shine like brilliant
beacons of success in the filthy mire of your seemingly limitless
inadequacy.

Suffice to say that I have now given up on my futile and foolhardy quest to
receive any kind of service from you. I suggest that you cease any potential
future attempts to extort payment from me for the services which  you have
so pointedly and catastrophically failed to deliver. Any such activity will
be greeted initially with hilarity and disbelief and will quickly be
replaced by derision, and even perhaps bemused rage.

I enclose two small deposits, selected with great care from my cat's litter
tray, as an expression of my utter and complete contempt for both you and
your pointless company. I sincerely hope that they have not become
desiccated during transit -- they were satisfyingly moist at the time of
posting, and I would feel considerable disappointment if you did not
experience both their rich aroma and delicate texture. Consider them the
very embodiment of my feelings towards NTL, and its worthless employees.

Have a nice day. May it be the last in your miserable short lives, you
irritatingly incompetent and infuriatingly unhelpful bunch of twits.

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