More Shitty-Link

Well, they finally picked the package up today after managing to lie to me on the phone. Several times. According to them, they didn’t come on Thursday and on Friday the driver asked for an “Iain” at reception and was sent away.

Bollocks.

On both Thursdau and Friday he turned up asking for a package to go back to Acer and with no contact name, so he was turned away.

Thing is, according to their phone people, the procedure at that point it to get hold of the depot who, in turn, contact the customer directly. Which they failed to do twice. The fuckwit, lazy ********.

Hey ho. The package has gone (finally) and only 4 days late. At least I’m not paying for it. Good ******* job as well.

Now if you’ll excuse me I have a beef and turkey burger to eat. Mmmmm…. double-burger…

City Link suck arse

I’m sure I’ve mentioned these retards before, but for a delivery company they seem to be lacking something very important. The ability to ******* collect a package.

I’ve had a TFT screen die on me, fortunately well within the 3-year warranty. Acer very kindly gave me a load of reference numbers and a contact number for City Link. After 3 hours I managed to get through to someone who took my details and promised a collection by 5pm on Thursday.

I stayed an hour late at work (that’s 5:30, folks) and nobody turned up. I rang them and the chap there said he’d call me in the morning and reschedule it. I beat him to it and called at 8am on Friday. Another reference number was given and I sat and waited.

At 4:20, I called them back and he gave me the number of the Bradford depot. I called them and the lass on the phone said she’d track down the van driver and ring me back. It’s 7:30pm, I’ve had no phone call and I spent 20 minutes after 5pm ringing numbers where nobody answered.

In short: ******* ****.

I think this may call for another sarky letter. If I can be arsed.

Squirty mess

Minds out of the gutters, ladies and germs. When I travel to work, I tend to shove my sports/gym bag behind the driver’s seat. The car’s a 3-door affair, so the seat goes forward, bag dropped and seat clunked back into place. Sound.

Only today I got into the car on the way back from work and saw some white stains on the back of the seat. A quick sniff. Shaving foam? Aaaaw, bollocks.

When I’d shoved the seat back, it had crushed the top of a damn near full can of shaving gel, forcing the button down and holding it there for my entire drive to work. Net result, the end compartment of my bag was full of soapy bubbles.

Crap.

It’s still sat in the bathroom (as are the contents) drying out. At least my anti-diaorrhea tables are now most definitely hairless. Toothbrush tastes funny, though.

Fat bastard

I went to the match at St James’ Park yesterday (probably my last match this season) and on the way stopped at the traditional watering hole – Wetherspoons near the Central Station.

There were a few of us and lunch was needed. I’m a stingy ****, so I wanted to split one of the “two meals for £6.39” offers with someone, but no. Sharon – cheeseburger and onion rings. Gill – the same. Riff – steak salad. Well, **** ’em. I wanted sausage, beans and chips.

Off I plodded to the bar to order. And was told that I couldn’t have my beloved sossies. They don’t do single meals from that offer – they don’t even have a price for them. It’s two meals or something off the main menu.

So I ordered two sausage, beans and chips. On the same plate.

And I finished my meal before anyone else. 36″ of prime pub-warmed sausage, a tin of beans and enough chips to choke a very, very, very small horse.

Does anyone still have to ask why I go to the gym? Except to stare at all the women?

Kiddies and chocolate

Almost scary

Great one from a friend, this. She was at lunch with one of her colleagues who was talking about her 4 year old grand-daughter and how she’d written her first letter to Santa.

Top of the list: penis.

Understandably a little taken aback, they asked her what that was.

In a typical exasperated kiddy voice she shouted “Pennies!”

She’ll learn. Give her another 14 years and she can get a whole lot of pennies by sticking with what she already has rather than the male equivalent she’d inadvertantly asked for. Let’s just hope Santa’s dyslexic.

Coincidence…?

Anyone in the UK, have a shufty at a box of Cadbury’s Heroes. Spot the Fudge bar.

Is it just me or is it a little dubious that a finger of Fudge has Elton John glasses on?