Well, in the immortal words of Dave Grohl as he stepped onto the stage at The Cheese and Grain in Frome all those months ago (have I told you that story?), IT'S BEEN A LOOOOOOONG TIME! Life just got busy and I didn't have time to sit and rant......but normal service is now being resumed.....
Now, I'm not going to bother telling you the whole Curry's story, it's old news and you've all heard it however, this happened a little while ago (I wrote it when it happened in about February but didn't finish it because I got sidetracked by bloody Curry's!)....
I know this is old news but WHY OH WHY OH WHY do I bother ringing up call centres? I ordered a very long, very heavy set of blinds for my patio doors, and inevitably, when Mr Yodel delivered them, he'd squashed the well-over-8 foot long package into his fucking Mini Clubman, and they were damaged. I did mention the squashed package to Mr Look-At-My-Face-I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck-About-Your-Squashed-Package as I stupidly signed for the delivery, I don't know why I even took it, but I did. Anyway, once we opened it and confirmed it was indeed damaged, I went onto the catalogue website to book a return, however due to the size of the package it directed me to phone their helpline instead (and boy I bet they're regretting it now). So I rang up. Unfortunately, there was somewhat of a language barrier between me and the customer service operator. I explained that the item was damaged and that I'd like to arrange for it to be collected. To cut a long and tedious story short, it took me slightly short of half an hour to a) make myself understood and b) understand what he was on about. He said (I think) 'oh no, we can't collect it, you will have to take it to the post office because it's less than 10kg', so I explained that whilst it indeed IS slightly less than 10kg, it's also well over 8 foot long, and that me being little more than 5 foot and having a gammy leg would find it very difficult to carry it the 20 minute walk to the nearest post office. 'Well I will try and book a courier with Yodel', he said 'but I don't think they can pick it up DUE TO THE SIZE'. SORRY WHAT? THEY FUCKING WELL DELIVERED IT, WHY CAN'T THEY PICK IT UP? Anyway, after much insistence on my part, the booking was made. The delivery/collection man arrived about 6pm today to pick it up - the very same chap that delivered the damaged item approximately 24 HOURS AGO. Now, if you'd delivered something to my house approximately 24 HOURS AGO, you'd probably remember, because of the way my estate is designed, you have to park on a road then walk along a 40 foot path before you get to my front door - that coupled with the fact that you'd delivered an 8 foot long package approximately 24 HOURS AGO, I'm sure you'd know you'd been to this very same house approximately 24 HOURS AGO. He said 'ah, so when was this delivered?' - ARE YOU FUCKING TRIPPING MATE? 'Yesterday.' 'Ah, so is it damaged?' YOU FUCKING WHAT? There is now a Yodel man walking around Wiltshire like he's got a 8 foot long pole up his ass.
Back to the present day. On Wednesday, in my lunch break, I went to Tesco's. (No shit, I hear you cry). It was Wednesday so it was fairly quiet, there was only about 20 customers in there. This is a fact - about 18 of those customers were UTTER FUCKING CUNTS. Before I even got in the store I knew it was a bad idea - I pulled into the car park, pulled my car round and started to swing into a space and a lady was just walking across the front of my car with her trolley so I politely smiled and waited and she smiled back and then - do you know what the utter NIPPLE did? She walked INTO THE SPACE SHE COULD CLEARLY SEE I WAS SWINGING INTO, WITH HER TROLLEY, AND THEN STARTED LOADING HER CAR THROUGH THE SIDE PASSENGER DOOR. RIGHT IN MY WAY. So I had to reverse back in order to drive off at speed and swing into a space on the other row while shouting YOU STUPID FUCKING SACK OF SHIT out of the window. And then I get in the store to be confronted with more fucking PLANKTON. Standing three abreast at the end of the checkout to have a chat - putting a pushchair right across the end of the shaving gel aisle and then not even moving when a polite 'excuse me' is offered, meaning I knocked over a cardboard display full of fucking sanitary towels over - an old man taking forty minutes to decide whether to pick up cod or haddock - and even a staff member manouvering his stock trolley in front of the salad bowls and making me stretch my five foot tall body to impossible proportions to reach a bag of fucking leaves. LEAVES I ASK YOU. Who eats leaves? I'm not a panda, although I have given myself two black eyes running down the stairs before now. Anyway, when I'm Prime Minister I will make it illegal to shop in Tesco's if you're a prick.
Now, because I'm clearly so good at life and adulting, I have started to receive 'agony aunt' type letters asking for my advice on various situations (I haven't, I'm making this up for your amusement but they will be based on real life cuntery I have witnessed). So please read on for the first in an occasional series of 'Sorting Out Your Shit, with Aunty Margie'.....
Dear Aunty Margie
I don't have many friends, so spend a lot of time scouring the Spotted pages on Facebook for anything that might interest me. In addition to being a billy-no-mates, I have a digestive issue which causes me to load my pants at inopportune moments. Just recently on one of the Spotted pages, an anonymous poster was asking for volunteers to try a new herbal-based concoction for people with wrecked guts, you didn't even have to meet the person, you just sent them a message with your details and they would send you the product in the post. Well, with my bowels, you can imagine, I jumped at the chance, and whizzed my details off to the absolutely-unknown-and-in-no-way-qualified-to-fuck-around-with-science dingus who posted the offer. To cut a long story short - I received the mystery herbal substance, took it without hesitation and now my gizzards have fell into my shoes. I want to sue the person who sent it, but my solicitor told me that I have no case because 'I'm a dozy, gullible twat'. What should I do?
from Dave Browntrouser of Shepton Mallet
Dear Dave
Here's what you should do. Buy a cork and don't be such a dozy, gullible twat.
love Auntie Margie
Yes, that was an actual real post on Spotted Shitsville - an anonymous person offering a herbal remedy for ass problems and literally fucking hundreds of people saying YES PLEASE SEND ME SOME. You all deserve your assholes to turn inside out, you TWATS!
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