Shock, Horror

My flabber is gasted. On Friday I’m off to see Peter Gabriel at the Newcastle Telewest Arena – really looking forward to it, as I’ve already seen the tour once at Manchester Arena, but the two people I’m going with haven’t seen it except on the DVD.

However, the tickets still haven’t arrived, so last week I emailed TicketMaster, who I’d bought them from. It’s taken a week to get a response, their customer “services” line is permanently engaged, and their “email” system is something that the phrase “fucking bobbins” was designed to describe. But at least now they’ve arranged for duplicate tickets to be left at the Box Office so I can collect them on the night. Despite the increased blood pressure over the last few days, it’s now come down to a simple “it’s sorted”, and I have to say that I’m semi-impressed. Maybe they’re just used to postal chuff-ups, I don’t know, but the problem is rectified, and I’m happy.

Of course, it still could be that when I get to the Arena no-one will know a chuffing thing, in which case there may be a retraction (and resultant Sweary^® production) on Saturday…