Useful
Posted: Mon 6 June, 2005 Filed under: Customer Services, Sweary, Travel Leave a comment »Out of interest, what the blue blazing fuck kind of use is a bank that opens on Saturdays, but doesn’t have its foreign currency desk do the same? Because of course a Saturday isn’t going to be when most people go and use a bank for that kind of thing, is it?
Yes, Nat-West Bank I’m referring (in this case) to you, you heap of incompetent unhelpful supercilious fuckmonkey cunts.
So instead we used the Post Office. Much easier. And at least they’ve (on this occasion) got some kind of idea when it comes to things like customer service.
Sweary
Posted: Fri 3 June, 2005 Filed under: Sweary Leave a comment »In a truly inspired bit of sweary creativity, did you know that both cuntchops.com and bollockchops.com are still available? Unfortunately, bollockchops.co.uk has been taken, although it’s just host to a crappy ISP holding page, which is disappointing.
Oh, and arsenugget.com is still available too…
Dental
Posted: Fri 20 May, 2005 Filed under: Health, Sweary 16 Comments »Ah good, I hear you cry, another post about dentists. Trust me, it ain’t good.
I’ve just been to my final dentists appointment for the time being, and all I can constructively say at the end of it is that all dentists are cunts. No two ways about it. If they weren’t all sadistic bastards, there would be at least some movement to progress dental equipment in the same way that most other medical systems have improved over the last fourty fucking years.
But no, they still use the same dirty great sodding needle for anaesthetic, the same manky noisy bastard drills, the same little steel picks that slip into gum tissue, everything. So far as I can tell, sod all’s changed in the time I’ve been going to dentists. Ergo they’re sadistic bastards who enjoy doing this shit. Let’s face it, who in their right mind says “Yeah, when I grow up I want to be a dentist.”?
Today’s joyous visit included the epic highlight of an anaesthetic needle in my gum. Not the lip, not the cheek, the fucking gum. Right at the front. And the sod got the place wrong, so I also had anaesthetic fluid run up my sinus into my nose cavity. I can smell the fucking stuff. I can’t feel my nose at all, but I can still smell bastard anaesthetic.
The other jab went into my cheek. Fair enough. It still hurt, but it’s nowt compared to a gum-jab, I can tell you. And the best bit of that one was that it didn’t sodding work. Not a jot. I’m going to get all my normal side-effects from the anaesthetic (flu-like joint pain, and a head that feels like it’s been whacked by a sledgehammer covered in velvet) without the benefit of having it had kill any fucking pain at all.
In the end we went ahead with the second filling without pissing about with any more anaesthetic. It was far easier to do it that way, and only actually hurt when the tosser slipped with his little steel pick. Cunt.
Medical science has come ahead in leaps and bounds over the last half century. Dental science has stayed where it was. And because of that, I can only reiterate, all dentists are sadistic motherfuckers.
Fuckety Cunt.
Posted: Wed 20 April, 2005 Filed under: Resolutions, Sweary 2 Comments »Buggered it up. Only four or five minor mistakes (you can get away with up to 15, apparently) but one serious, which fucked it up, as you’re not supposed to get one of them. Arse-spoons.
So – booking it again. Chuff. Another £40 up the swannee.
Voiceovers
Posted: Mon 28 March, 2005 Filed under: General, Sweary, Thoughts 2 Comments »Recently, I’ve noticed something on a couple of TV programmes that really annoys me. On both “The Apprentice” and “Masterchef” they have commentaries and voiceovers. It’s grating on the Apprentice, but it really annoys the fuck out of me on Masterchef.
The programme’s only 30 minutes long, for shite’s sake. Yet the viewer has to put up with some bint whittling on about “Will Andy’s lobster bisque impress the chefs?” or somesuch. We’ll find out in about thirty seconds anyway, not all of us have the attention span of a cerebrally challenged goldfish. “Norman’s first course didn’t impress the judges” (as we saw FIVE FUCKING MINUTES AGO, YOU SIMPERING TWAT) “so will he have cut the mustard on the second challenge” It’s something that makes me wish “interactive” TV were more like DVDs where you can at least turn off the bastard fucking scumshit commentators.
In a half hour programme – with no ad breaks, it’s on BBC2, let’s not forget – they remind the viewers at least three times for each competitor what’s happened. It’s not spread over days on end, or even hard to follow. Instead it seems to have been made for the type of people who find Jerry Springer tough to follow. Except of course that kind of person is busy watching Jerry fucking Springer (or the simpsons, whatever), not bloody Master-sodding-Chef.
Information
Posted: Wed 23 March, 2005 Filed under: Customer Services, Sweary, Thoughts 2 Comments »A while back I ordered a couple of things for Herself’s birthday next week. (For obvious reasons I’m now not going to name suppliers etc. just yet – but maybe on April 6th I will) One of the places I used was one I’d had a mediocre experience with before, but it was a busy period, so I thought “OK, I’ll see what they’re like this time”.
In fairness, the ordering process wasn’t too nightmarish, although it’s fucking annoying to go through the entire process of finding the stuff, sorting out what’s needed, clicking it into the “basket”, then checking out, signing in to my account, and the bastard basket is suddenly emptied. That’s just bad coding, and meant I had to stay logged in and go through the guff again of finding bits, sorting out quantities, and putting them in the basket. But OK, it’s a minor hassle – more about useability than corporate efficiency.
Once the order’s been confirmed, the little doubts start creeping in. I haven’t had a confirmation email. No mention at all – not a “thanks for your order”, a “you’ve ordered this, and we’ll charge you for it soon”, nothing. Now that’s seriously not good. I’ve given my credit card number, yet you haven’t said it’s been received.
Check under “my account” on the site. And lo, the order’s there, all confirmed and so on. Let the heart-rate come down a bit now.
Today, it’s arrived. No fucking email to say “we’ve dispatched it”, no call, no mention under “my account” that the status of the order has changed at all.
I won’t be using the company again. And I’ll be writing to explain why. I may even refer them to this post…