Parked in a McDonald's car park, I observed opposite me a row of shops in the retail park. The chips were not hot enough; they were at that annoying temperature where they couldn't be described as cold, and yet they were certainly not hot. The 'taster chip' on the way out had alerted me to the issue and I'd considered my next move. I made it a continuation back to my car, rather than a return to the counter to demand another portion. The main reason for this decision was to avoid conflict where I'd be using the 'c' word in public. The fact that the cunts there were unable to co-ordinate the climax of any order such that the burger and chips were ready at the same time was grounds enough for their being considered cunts, but I suspected they wouldn't be pleased to hear this description being used, especially as all but the manager would be on the minimum wage. I saved myself a further five minute wait because the only outcome that would have worked would have been for me to wait all over again, whilst listening to the pathetic comments of the one in charge. I know this for a fact, because my arrival at the counter in the first place had coincided with her pathetic comments to another customer who'd no doubt been waiting ages because the complaint was underway. I heard the phrase: "You said 'two more minutes' two minutes ago" and surmised that the customer had been there a while, and the last attempt at teasing her with news that her food was almost ready had involved a suggestion that all would be well in two minutes.
Munching on my quarter-pounder (with cheese) I noted the line of shops - six units, like a row of terraced houses, and then a separate one about twenty yards off to the right. The signage was particulary intriguing - at least to my mind, which is perhaps not in synch with anyone else's. While resenting at an absurdly high level the very existence of McDonald's, and the fact that the meals now seem to be a pound more expensive than a couple of years ago [£12.97 for three standard sized meals - Mrs MWSC and Junior were in the car with me] I noticed the prevalence of carpets for sale. Well, actually I mean 'flooring', a more generic term to cover the other various options. Actually, I can't move on with this without wondering about my use of the word 'carpets' rather than 'carpet'. In some respects, carpets are indeed separate things, typically room-sized and of numerous different colours/patterns. So, as with 'rug' and 'rugs', singular and plural works fine. And yet, something is suggesting to me that carpet is also a mass noun in some ways, and it's also fine to refer to carpet in general, just like the word 'stuff'. So, my earlier comment could be tweaked to note the 'prevalence of carpet for sale', which sounds okay as well. I am undecided; insertion of 'different' in front of the plural version removes all doubt, but with no qualifier, both singular and plural seem valid.
It was a close run thing, but carpets outnumbered beds (not 'bedding' of course) by 4 to 3, based on the number of outlets selling these commodities, counting the seventh retail establishment off to the right. For the block of six, the score was 3-3. Why the cuntin' fuck would I want large meals? What a sad state of affairs for the plankton (sweet but dim) on the right hand till to be muttering "Is that a large meal?" after my request for "Three quarter-pounder-with-cheese meals, please." Her choice to refer to just the one was almost an invite to say, "It is indeed a fucking large meal, if I eat it all myself" but a simple "No" left my mouth with a slight hint in its tone that I didn't appreciate the fucking stupid question, and that I'd have asked for 'large meals' if I'd wanted 'large meals'. I would not have been surprised if she'd replied "We don't sell three-quarter pounders".
From the left, the first and third shops sold beds. I know this not because there were notices to this effect, but by an educated guess based on the store names: Bensons for Beds and BedShed. If I were in the market for a bed, I could do a lot worse than choose to shop at this park, what with two shops selling them being so close together. In fact, the second shop along (between the bed establishments) must have been in tune with this line of thinking when it decided to get in on the act. The second shop was called Storey Carpets. If you're in any way confused by my comment, don't be, because I can reveal that this shop had, separate from the shop name that suggested carpet-selling was going on there, signs to relay its wares, and they were: Rugs, Vinyls, Carpets, Beds. That's right! Storey Carpets deemed it necessary to tell the world with an extra sign that it sold carpets! Still, mad as that seems, it's not so mad when there's clearly a need for extra information when a carpet shop sells beds! This created a run of three shops all selling beds. I am not sure if the purchase of a bed would be better conducted by a sales person working in a bed shop than a sales person whose abilities covered (get it!) flooring as well. Whatever the case, one could shop for a bed at three shops in a row, taking in carpets, Rugs and Vinyls at the same time.
Shop number four was Topps Tiles. I suspected that this establishment might sell tiles, and any doubt was utterly removed by two massive further signs. To the left and right of the 'Topps Tiles' sign were vertically positioned letters, stating TILES. So, tiles were definitely for sale in Topps Tiles. I was further advised on what was possible within this store, through a short statement over the door - Open to the trade and public. So, 'Open' to all then. Saying the public can shop and that traders can shop means anyone can shop, so it is a pointless comment. Of course, it becomes confusing when the shop is closed, because then there's a closed shop with a note above the door saying 'Open to the trade and public' when it's clearly not open to any fucker!
Neither Bensons for Beds nor BedShed opted for further signage to clarify what was being sold, each no doubt hoping that shoppers would get the hint from the shop name. Topps Tiles customers must be of lower intelligence to need two further signs - either that, or it's the shop chain itself that is low on intelligence, deeming the overkill appropriate. As I looked at the shop, I saw no one in a confused state, because what with the place being open, it was in synch with the helpful note regarding whom shop workers would be pleased to serve.
To the right again, fifth along, was Allied Carpets. I was surprised to see the name because I was under the impression that this chain had gone bust more than once, and undergone many changes in ownership. Still, the name is a longstanding one and no doubt whichever holding company now owns the massive debts, retention of the name was deemed necessary. The owners clearly have faith in the general public's ability to deduce that carpets are for sale, and so there's no extra comment to suggest this. However. someone felt it necessary to expand on things, because a separate sign confirms that Allied Carpets also has: Vinyl, Woods & Laminates, Rugs. What percentage of people actually eat the gherkins? I sat there, removing a piece of gherkin from my mouth, having failed to get rid of it before starting to eat my burger. At the time I was surprised that only one small green slice was visible when I attended to the ritualistic 'disposal of the gherkin' routine. I'd mistakenly assumed that the person who'd compiled the quarter-pounder with cheese (and 'compile' is an advised term) had omitted a second piece. Such an oversight would have been advantageous what with me always removing the gherkins anyway, but on this occasion I was messed about. The 'compiler' had obviously decided to hide one piece (perhaps suspecting there would be a 50% chance that the person eating it would dislike gherkins) and have that dislike amplified by the effects of a piece secreted below the cheese layer. My brain had told me to expect two pieces, but I'd seen only one. I had decided on an error by McDonald's rather than subterfuge. Anyway, I removed the offending slice from my mouth and considered just how much vinyl might be on sale at Allied Carpets.
Storey Carpets was clear about its product range having lots of items, what with the helpful signs stating: Carpets, Rugs, Vinyls, Beds, - all plural. Allied Carpets did have plurals for woods and laminates, and for rugs, but for some reason there was either just the one piece of vinyl for sale, or vinyl is a mass noun. This inconsistency bothered me. The shop's name used the plural of carpet, so I expected the same approach for vinyl. It is not on to discriminate against vinyl. It would sound mad to say 'Rug' rather than 'Rugs', and that has to be because these are things of a particular size, and individual. Vinyl differs because it is stuff that's on a massive roll and bits are cut off as required. This could suggest that the general term of 'Vinyl' would be acceptable. However, if I concede that point to Allied Carpets, then what about 'carpet' then? The same applies, and so the name of the shop should be 'Allied Carpet'. (I was going to say 'I'm on a roll, here' to introduce an awful pun. Oh, I have said it.)
The term 'Woods & Laminates' is pretentious. 'Woods' is where I used to go as a kid on Sundays, in the days when no shops were open, and when theme parks were thin on the ground and massively expensive (no change there - on the expensive part, not the thin-on-the-ground part). Yes, entertainment was going to the park, or the woods, or Grandma's. The latter was not really entertaining, mainly because I knew what I was going to find - namely 'Grandma'. I suppose when I was set to go to 'the woods' then I also had an inkling of what to expect, but 'the woods' was so much more than just the 'wood' bit. There was excitement and intrigue and exploration. Grandma's house was mapped out fairly quickly, and after a couple of visits, it was 'explored'. The various woods and forests presented of course an almost limitless supply of intrigue for any child who could have no knowledge of what it might be like to shop on a Sunday, play anything that needed a TV or computer (something that didn't exist!) or have any other alternatives to Grandma. 'Wooden & Laminated Flooring' should have been the words used to relay to shoppers the wares within Allied Carpets. I will consider whether to write to the company with a prompt for new signage being considered at the next board meeting.
I wondered whether Storey Carpets sold wooden and laminated flooring. It's a slippery slope, flooring - well, hopefully not, or there'll be trouble, what with the claim culture that now exists. I mean, where does one draw the line in the retail world? I suspected that as well as the announced Rugs, Vinyls, Carpets, Beds, there was likely to be some laminated flooring on sale, and probably some expensive wooden stuff as well. Perhaps someone decided that mentioning 'Beds' was necessary, but that the product range straying into the realms of laminated and real wood flooring was a natural extension and not worthy of a sign to alert shoppers. I wondered if Allied Carpets sold beds, and had decided not to put that detail on a sign. But why would a retailer go out of its way to sell something but not advertise the fact? Why would a quarter-pounder-with-cheese compiler go out of his (or her) way to include a second piece of gherkin, but not advertise the fact? Who know the answers, eh?
I then recalled having bought (in 1996) from Allied Carpets a sofa that turned into a single bed. So, at one time, the range certainly did extend well beyond carpets. But that was so long ago, and in a time when the chain probably had more shops, no debt, and some customers who showed brand loyalty. As it happened, I returned the sofa/bed the following weekend, because the slats underneath were shit, and a number broke within a couple of days. Splicing wood to make slats that are supposed to give support is complete madness. Like gluing together tooth picks to make a fishing rod, the use of weakened (because of the flawed construction) slats to give support was a silly approach that meant the bed was doomed to fail in its endeavours - whether being used as a bed, or as a sofa during the day. I had to write and threaten Allied Carpets, quoting the consumer credit act and other shit, before I was advised by the manager that he would (as he fucking had to anyway) swap the bed for my hundred quid. Anyway, that's all off on a tangent, eh?
The last shop in this block, sixth in the line, was CarpetRIGHT. I have written it like that because that's how the logo is printed. Like most potential customers, I was pretty clear that carpet (or carpets) would be on sale within. The clue in the name was rather blatant. I considered whether it should be called 'CarpetsRIGHT' because Storey Carpets used the plural in both its name and on the sign to explain that inside, carpets were for sale. In CarpetRIGHT, carpet was for sale - singular/mass-noun. There was further signage to help out shoppers and complement the CarpetRIGHT sign. Carpet, Vinyl, Laminate, Rugs. This was all very confusing. The easy one on this list is of course 'Rugs'. No one in his right mind would expect to see 'Rug'. 'Rug for sale' would be fine for a small ad, when a private seller wants to offload a rug, but on the front of a shop, 'Rugs' is fine and appropriate. We have, I think, covered singular and plural in relation to Carpet(s) and Vinyl(s) to a satisfactory degree already. With 'Laminate' entering the frame, I need to reassess things. Why does strawberry milkshake have visibly distinct white and pink elements? Mrs MWSC had a bit, and took the lid off to discover the two-part construction of this gloopy stuff. I suspected that the mixing process had not been completed before the goo was dispensed. Still, at least the mixture was not so cold and stiff that sucking on the straw was ineffective. Occasionally it does prove impossible to defy gravity and get a taste of milkshake when it has the consistency of Polycell filler.
I remain unhappy with the term 'laminates' to mean 'laminated flooring'. Nevertheless, I will accept that for quick reference, laminates gets the point across. That concession, though, does not give CarpetRIGHT the right to make it singular. The selection of Carpet, Vinyl, Laminate, Rugs, by the company owners and directors was a wrong move. CarpetRIGHT is not unused to misleading the public, though. The company is not alone in this, but it is certainly very guilty of using terms such as "Everything Must Go", yet it (ie. everything) never does!
To summarise some of the aforementioned topics, then, we can see that:
Storey Carpets gives extra mention of it selling carpets (plural)
Allied Carpets makes no such further reference
CarpetRIGHT gives extra mention of selling carpet (singular)
All three are consistent in references to rugs (plural)
Storey Carpets mentions vinyls, but the other two state vinyl (singular)
CarpetRIGHT gives extra mention of laminate (singular)
Allied Carpets gives extra mention of laminates (plural)
Storey Carpets may or may not sell it/them, as there's no mention
Allied Carpets is keen to promote woods (plural) which no other shop mentions
Storey Carpets adds beds to its range to muscle in on its neighbours' business
Bensons for Beds and BedShed keep things simple with no further inputs
All in all, this was, and still is, most inconsistent and unsatisfactory. I looked around and realised there were fewer people around than might be at an unpublicised Punch & Judy show in a Tamworth backstreet on a rainy November evening. Does anyone know how waterless urinals work? McDonald's seems to have installed them nationally, but I've not seen them as the default in other establishments. At face value, up to 100,000 litres of water per year saved is not to be sniffed at (unlike the urinals) but I am unhappy with this claim. That means the non-use of one litre every five minutes and fifteen seconds, all year, 24/7. Now, this level of water usage is hardly reasonable considering McDonald's restaurants are not open 24/7 and they are not destination places for those wanting a piss. Even though redesignating them as 'pissing stations' might be a good thing, and divert attention away from cold chips and pointless gherkins, I don't think the facilities are up to scratch. Two urinals and one cubicle is the standard arrangement, and yet the company has completely failed to understand the need for more space. The cubicle size is not sufficient at all, and the consumers are increasing their BMIs at an alarming rate. The next time I'm asked "Is that a large meal?" I'll say - "No, because I'll end up being a fat cunt whose need to shit or piss is not going to be met by your undersized bog, so until you make that a large bog, I will defer." Somehow I don't think such a comment will be seen as relevant by a youngster with a peaked cap and five spaces for gold stars.
To the right of the block of six shops was the seventh - Frank's. Underneath this large writing was the further line, stating: The Flooring Store. This approach was quite refreshing, because it used a general terms that suggested it may well sell lots of different things that go on floors. 'Flooring' could of course include Rugs, Laminate/Laminates/Laminated Flooring, Wood/Woods/Wooden Flooring, Vinyl/Vinyls, Carpet/Carpets and even floor tiles, in competition with Topps Tiles. I happened to know that ceramic tiles were not available at Frank's, but that was probably not going to disappoint too many shoppers, what with Topps Tiles being close at hand. There was no mention of Beds at all; just because a bed is a commodity that's hardly relevant to flooring, that's no reason to suppose one cannot buy a bed. Still, Storey Carpets did actually list beds, by way of supplementary signage, as one of its offerings, so in the absence of a note from Frank, I assumed 'The Flooring Store' would cover (sorry, again) stuff that goes on to a floor and not stuff that goes on to the stuff that goes on a floor [this comment of mine obviously excludes consideration of hammocks]. Despite the general term 'flooring' being used, which should have put Frank's in a strong position, it managed to undermine itself with the next line, the company's catchphrase - "I love carpets, me!" I felt disappointed for Frank, but then revised my emotional input to being annoyed with him for being stupid. Obviously the love of carpets showed me some passion for retail on the carpet front, but whilst technically it did not actually confirm exclusion of other items, it did suggest a predominance of carpet. I did consider that the sign was probably a fair bit more inviting than the old style shops, that stated "Frank's Factory Flooring", which was hardly painting the right sort of picture. I have no idea what sort of flooring prevails in a factory, but it would hardly be appropriate for a bedroom.
I think the winner has to be Bensons for Beds. This simple company name includes the original family name together with a descriptor. Taken at face value, we are left in no doubt as to the nature of the store. Cyril Benson's general store opened in 1950 and he gave his name to the more specific bed business in 1972. There are no extra signs stating 'Beds, Beds' and so no overdoing it like Topps Tiles (Tiles, Tiles). However, upon my return from the retail park, and while typing the above, I have discovered a major twist. In 2011, there was a 'relaunch' of the Bensons for Beds business, as a merged one; the existing stores of Bensons for Beds were joined by others under the names of Sleepmasters, and BedShed. That's right - the Bensons for Beds store to the left of Storey Carepts and the BedShed store to the right of Storey Carpets are in effect the same company! What an absolute cheat. The 290+ stores under the Bensons for Beds name are allowing us all to think that the 14 shops under the BedShed name are in competition.
Generally, I prefer extra ketchup to be provided in either sachets or better still, sealed pots. This means no likelihood of spillage on the way to your car or when you're in it. The prevalence now of dispensers for red and brown sauces, and small open-topped circular containers does nothing to reassure any parent that there won't soon be, throught the actions of himself/herself or an offspring, a big dollop of gunge applied to a dashboard, or a red smear like the blade of a machete garnishing the back of a car seat. Use of sealed pots and the non-existence of a dispenser inside the McDonald's premises would also remove the undoubted health risk. Mrs MWSC observed a small kid smearing her dirty fingers where they shouldn't go, and a cunt of a dad watching her without any rebuke at all.
There were, in my opinion on the day, seven shops, but as I later established, really only six retailers. With news that Bensons for Beds was part of Steinhoff International, and an operating division of Homestyle Operations Ltd, and that BedShed was incorporated within this mess, I learnt something about beds - well, more specifically, bed sellers. Out of curiosity, I have just checked on the status of Allied Carpets, what with all the jiggery pokery at Bensons for Beds. It started in the 1950s and in the early 1980s added curtains and soft furnishings to its products. I was able to learn from its website that beds were in fact added in 1984, although not with sufficiently strong slats, you'll recall. The rebrand in 1985 (when ASDA sold it) was followed by another at the end of the 1980s when it became Allied Maple Group Ltd. In 1993 Carpetland bought it, and changed everything to the Allied Carpets name (again) before it was acquired at the end of the 1990s by Tapis Saint-Maclou, a French company. These days, it trades as Allied Carpets although it's actually Allied Floors Ltd. Anyway, it doesn't secretly own Storey Carpets or have any interest in Frank. Storey Carpets got up and running in the 1920s. The website seems to portray it as a self-contained brand, although a click to Terms & Conditions reveals a link to Carpetright PLC.
Sure enough, a click on the CarpetRIGHT website shows it is in fact the owner of the Storey Carpets business. I also discovered that the group (started in 1988) acquired the Sleepright business in 2008, and that in 155 CarpetRIGHT stores, beds are sold! Now, seeing as the shop in question had supplementary signage stating Carpet, Vinyl, Laminate, Rugs, I dare say that there were no beds in this one. So, there were in fact 5 different retailers operating the seven shops opposite McDonald's.
I quickly checked on Frank, and he's been consistent since the business got going in 1996. However, I know that two stores now do bedding, and there's a claim that 'Frank's the Bedstore' is up and running!
Mrs MWSC threw the rubbish in the bin, and we left the parking area. I noticed a very large Go Outdoors store before leaving the vicinity. There were loads of signs for "Go Just-About-Everything". Go Camping, Go Walking, Go Running etc. I think I would have liked to see 'Go Mooching', 'Go Pottering' and 'Go Galumphing' on the list.
...
Sunday, 15 July 2012
Wednesday, 11 July 2012
11.7.12 Bird Cage Delivery
I decided (long ago, never to walk in anyone's shadow) - sorry, it just came into my head - a while ago that I'd like to get some finches. Jimmy the canary will never lose his 'top spot' but I thought it would be nice to have a few more tweeters in the house. I therefore decided to buy another bird cage, and went on line to find the cage I wanted on Monday evening, over a week ago. My experience was less than satisfactory, from the time the order was placed through to the arrival of the cage today - a full week later.
For anyone who occasionally has an issue with online shopping, and cause to moan about delivery being delayed, take note of the following account which shows the steps relating to this order.
Tue 3rd July - Order placed with Personalised Pet Products
I asked about delivery and was told that it would be despatched the next day for delivery by Friday.
Tue 3rd July - 2.30pm: email received
Your order has been updated to the following status: Complete
Please reply to this email if you have any queries.
Fri 6th July - 5.00pm: email sent to PPP
I was rather hoping that a Tuesday order for despatch by Wednesday would mean delivery by Friday (?)
I think it would be helpful either to email with a tracking number for the courier, and/or to state which carrier you are using, and/or give an indication of the service level being used, eg. 24hr, 48hr, 72hr. It's not the end of the world but I won't be buying birds to put in the cage this weekend, and will have to wait another week . . .
Rgds
Mon 9th July - 11.15pm: email sent to PP after no delivery or response
Can someone please email with some news on delivery! This is hardly a good customer experience. When was the item despatched, with which carrier was it sent, when is it scheduled to arrive, and how come it takes so long to: a) get the item, and b) get an answer from you? If my order on Tuesday was despatched Wednesday, surely it's overdue - or have you found a 3-5 day service to use and I'm getting the 5-day part?
Please advise - thanks.
Tue 10th July - 9.50am: email received
Order ID 2989 Date Ordered: 03/07/2012
Your order has been updated to the following status: Shipped
The comments for your order are:
Thank you for your recent order. This has been despatched using Fedex. Your consignment number is 10173930339
Please reply to this email if you have any questions.
By this stage I was pissed off. The delivery should have been completed by Friday, and yet here I was receiving an email - at last - that answered some of my queries, and confirmed the thing had been shipped - fucking marvellous. Oh how I jumped for joy at the wonderful news that something I'd paid for a week ago was finally in the 'shipped' category!
Tue 10th July - 10.15pm: A check on the FedexUK/ANC site
9th July: Despatched
10th July 7.53am: Arrived at Delivery Depot
Service Level: Within 3 days
At least I was able to see the fucking thing, and know it was 16 miles away. In theory, I'd be receiving it either today, Wed 11th or tomorrow, Thu 12th.
Wed 11th July - 1.20pm: Delivery made
The box was so bent that I struggled to believe it was packaged by anyone with a brain - it was taped up in a way that it could have been the handiwork of a manic four-year-old who'd been fed 1500 blue Smarties and given 6 litres of Coke. Part of it was protruding from one side of the cardboard. I commend Fedex for not buggering the box and for the contents arriving safe despite the weird packing style. In fact, the delivery only took two days, and it was the retailer that needed four days (plus a weekend) to despatch the cunt!
So, there you have it (the quick run-down) and I have it (the cage) at last. Most people would think a Tuesday lunchtime order and delivery on the Wednesday was good, but normal. However, delivery was not the next day but a week and a day after the order - not good. I shall not order again. In summary, the delivery service and timescale is but one element of the process; of equal or greater significance is the approach of the retailer. If the retailer acts like a half-soaked, forgetful, hormonal teenager who thinks he's being nagged to tidy his room, then it's not surprising things take rather longer. Overall, a 6-day delivery.
...
For anyone who occasionally has an issue with online shopping, and cause to moan about delivery being delayed, take note of the following account which shows the steps relating to this order.
Tue 3rd July - Order placed with Personalised Pet Products
I asked about delivery and was told that it would be despatched the next day for delivery by Friday.
Tue 3rd July - 2.30pm: email received
Your order has been updated to the following status: Complete
Please reply to this email if you have any queries.
Fri 6th July - 5.00pm: email sent to PPP
I was rather hoping that a Tuesday order for despatch by Wednesday would mean delivery by Friday (?)
I think it would be helpful either to email with a tracking number for the courier, and/or to state which carrier you are using, and/or give an indication of the service level being used, eg. 24hr, 48hr, 72hr. It's not the end of the world but I won't be buying birds to put in the cage this weekend, and will have to wait another week . . .
Rgds
Mon 9th July - 11.15pm: email sent to PP after no delivery or response
Can someone please email with some news on delivery! This is hardly a good customer experience. When was the item despatched, with which carrier was it sent, when is it scheduled to arrive, and how come it takes so long to: a) get the item, and b) get an answer from you? If my order on Tuesday was despatched Wednesday, surely it's overdue - or have you found a 3-5 day service to use and I'm getting the 5-day part?
Please advise - thanks.
Tue 10th July - 9.50am: email received
Order ID 2989 Date Ordered: 03/07/2012
Your order has been updated to the following status: Shipped
The comments for your order are:
Thank you for your recent order. This has been despatched using Fedex. Your consignment number is 10173930339
Please reply to this email if you have any questions.
By this stage I was pissed off. The delivery should have been completed by Friday, and yet here I was receiving an email - at last - that answered some of my queries, and confirmed the thing had been shipped - fucking marvellous. Oh how I jumped for joy at the wonderful news that something I'd paid for a week ago was finally in the 'shipped' category!
Tue 10th July - 10.15pm: A check on the FedexUK/ANC site
9th July: Despatched
10th July 7.53am: Arrived at Delivery Depot
Service Level: Within 3 days
At least I was able to see the fucking thing, and know it was 16 miles away. In theory, I'd be receiving it either today, Wed 11th or tomorrow, Thu 12th.
Wed 11th July - 1.20pm: Delivery made
The box was so bent that I struggled to believe it was packaged by anyone with a brain - it was taped up in a way that it could have been the handiwork of a manic four-year-old who'd been fed 1500 blue Smarties and given 6 litres of Coke. Part of it was protruding from one side of the cardboard. I commend Fedex for not buggering the box and for the contents arriving safe despite the weird packing style. In fact, the delivery only took two days, and it was the retailer that needed four days (plus a weekend) to despatch the cunt!
So, there you have it (the quick run-down) and I have it (the cage) at last. Most people would think a Tuesday lunchtime order and delivery on the Wednesday was good, but normal. However, delivery was not the next day but a week and a day after the order - not good. I shall not order again. In summary, the delivery service and timescale is but one element of the process; of equal or greater significance is the approach of the retailer. If the retailer acts like a half-soaked, forgetful, hormonal teenager who thinks he's being nagged to tidy his room, then it's not surprising things take rather longer. Overall, a 6-day delivery.
...
Monday, 9 July 2012
9.7.12 Silverstone Grand Prix
It was an exciting race, and made for good entertainment - except of course for the commentary. More arduous than actually driving a car in the race and travelling at ludicrous speeds, while experiencing high g-forces over many laps, was the incessant and massively annoying noise of David Couthard. It's got little to do with his having a Scottish accent - it about the weird and frustrating intonation he dishes out. He drags out some words, mispronounces others, and lifts the pitch of words at inappropriate stages. Many of the final syllables of words are uttered with a rise that signals a slight question - one that he's going to answer himself by continuing to talk into his microphone without let-up. Shut up, please! Just give it a break every now and then, and let me get over the crushing agony of temporary aural and mental problems induced by the monotonous tripe that's forced my way.
On the matter of tripe, here are some examples of input:
"If you're hit by 640 kilos of racing car, something's going to hurt." [Thanks for that, David]
"Can he respond on those new set of Options?" ['On those options' or 'On that new set of Options' - one or the other, please, but not your drivel]
"They're both on different tyres." [No, David, they can't be, because there are two types of tyre, and they can't both be on different tyres. There is nothing to compare their choices with! They can both be on the soft tyres, or both on the prime tyres, and they can thus be on different tyres from one another, but they cannot both be on different tyres - just say "they're on different tyres" and be done with it]
While I'm relaying my grievances, I must just include a Derek Warwick quote which I noted as he talked to Coulthard on the grid before the start:
"This is one of the tick boxes that all drivers want to win." Nob.
...
On the matter of tripe, here are some examples of input:
"If you're hit by 640 kilos of racing car, something's going to hurt." [Thanks for that, David]
"Can he respond on those new set of Options?" ['On those options' or 'On that new set of Options' - one or the other, please, but not your drivel]
"They're both on different tyres." [No, David, they can't be, because there are two types of tyre, and they can't both be on different tyres. There is nothing to compare their choices with! They can both be on the soft tyres, or both on the prime tyres, and they can thus be on different tyres from one another, but they cannot both be on different tyres - just say "they're on different tyres" and be done with it]
While I'm relaying my grievances, I must just include a Derek Warwick quote which I noted as he talked to Coulthard on the grid before the start:
"This is one of the tick boxes that all drivers want to win." Nob.
...
9.7.12 Football Quotes of the Euros 2012
If the pundits and commentators are not talking rubbish, they are murdering the English language, and making sure they ignore all the rules of grammar. No one ever 'raises questions' now, about any issue; it seems that there's a fad to 'raise question marks' instead! There are so many tired phrases and metaphors that now seem compulsory for inclusion in the verbal nonsense. I have ignored the most nauseating, which include a desperation to say (in respect of footballers kicking a ball around):
a) He put in a shift
b) He asked questions of him
c) That was a good day at the office
d) It was the icing on the cake
e) He needs to make a change of personnel
f) He had his pocket picked
g) He'll be disappointed with that
This illiterate bunch of blokes is overpaid for what amounts to inane shit. What leave the mouths of these people (at a phenomenal cost per word) is mind boggling. Here is just a sample of the rubbish relayed to us during the Euro 2012 Championship. In a few cases, I've included an explanatory note, although sometimes it's funnier to just read the words with no link to context. If ever anyone needs a glimpse of the blindingly obvious, Shearer's the man to assist.
1 - "You've gotta create chances and score goals to win games." [Alan Shearer]
2 - "Why can't he just pull the trigger, and shoot himself." [Martin Keown, ref Nasri]
3 - "Today's sheet is already stained." [Commentator, ref Ireland conceding in 3rd minute]
4 - "We haven't seen too much long balls in the competition." [Mick McCarthy]
5 - "The Greek physio doesn't seem to be at the forefront of medical science; he's come on with just a bottle of water." [Commentator, ref Karagounis being kicked in the head by a Czech player]
6 - "A journalist in Spain was asked who's Spain's main opponents now were." [Gary Lineker]
7 - "Let's give a lot of quality to the finish." [Andy Townsend]
8 - "He's got more of a freer role." [Alan Shearer]
9 - "When you get something as good as they are." [Lee Dixon]
10 - "Some footballers' body language give nothing away." [Clive Tyldesley]
11 - "It goes to a mini-league of three teams, or however many number are involved." [Martin Brotherton]
12 - "This would be a big question mark for me . . . . . there's a big question mark about that." [Alan Shearer]
13 - "A goal that raised serious question marks." [Clive Tyldesley]
14 - "I can't believe how leisurely the game is being played at." [Martin Keown]
15 - "He fluffed his lines, didn't he!" [Martin Keown]
16 - "The amount of times he got down the right side." [Lee Dixon, avoiding the word "number"]
17 - "Every live show and every highlights show are available on the iPlayer." [Gary Lineker losing the plot over singular and plural]
18 - "That was the face of Irish panic." [Jim Beglin]
19 - "He got in there a little bit too easy." [Andy Townsend proving he doesn't know what an adverb is]
20 - "It forced Spain into a game to which they're not familiar." [Gary Lineker]
21 - "Spain has swapped their rural retreat for . . . . " [Has they indeed, Mr Commentator]
22 - "You do feel sorry for him as the rains run down the back of his neck." [Adrian Chiles, suggesting there are different types of rain targeting the Manager of the Ireland team]
To finish, here's a very short exchange between Martin Keown and Jonathan Pearce, with translations in orange, in case anyone is unsure on the meaning of 'experience'..
JP: "He did go down like a sack of spuds."
MK: "He used his experience, didn't he." [He cheated]
...
a) He put in a shift
b) He asked questions of him
c) That was a good day at the office
d) It was the icing on the cake
e) He needs to make a change of personnel
f) He had his pocket picked
g) He'll be disappointed with that
This illiterate bunch of blokes is overpaid for what amounts to inane shit. What leave the mouths of these people (at a phenomenal cost per word) is mind boggling. Here is just a sample of the rubbish relayed to us during the Euro 2012 Championship. In a few cases, I've included an explanatory note, although sometimes it's funnier to just read the words with no link to context. If ever anyone needs a glimpse of the blindingly obvious, Shearer's the man to assist.
1 - "You've gotta create chances and score goals to win games." [Alan Shearer]
2 - "Why can't he just pull the trigger, and shoot himself." [Martin Keown, ref Nasri]
3 - "Today's sheet is already stained." [Commentator, ref Ireland conceding in 3rd minute]
4 - "We haven't seen too much long balls in the competition." [Mick McCarthy]
5 - "The Greek physio doesn't seem to be at the forefront of medical science; he's come on with just a bottle of water." [Commentator, ref Karagounis being kicked in the head by a Czech player]
6 - "A journalist in Spain was asked who's Spain's main opponents now were." [Gary Lineker]
7 - "Let's give a lot of quality to the finish." [Andy Townsend]
8 - "He's got more of a freer role." [Alan Shearer]
9 - "When you get something as good as they are." [Lee Dixon]
10 - "Some footballers' body language give nothing away." [Clive Tyldesley]
11 - "It goes to a mini-league of three teams, or however many number are involved." [Martin Brotherton]
12 - "This would be a big question mark for me . . . . . there's a big question mark about that." [Alan Shearer]
13 - "A goal that raised serious question marks." [Clive Tyldesley]
14 - "I can't believe how leisurely the game is being played at." [Martin Keown]
15 - "He fluffed his lines, didn't he!" [Martin Keown]
16 - "The amount of times he got down the right side." [Lee Dixon, avoiding the word "number"]
17 - "Every live show and every highlights show are available on the iPlayer." [Gary Lineker losing the plot over singular and plural]
18 - "That was the face of Irish panic." [Jim Beglin]
19 - "He got in there a little bit too easy." [Andy Townsend proving he doesn't know what an adverb is]
20 - "It forced Spain into a game to which they're not familiar." [Gary Lineker]
21 - "Spain has swapped their rural retreat for . . . . " [Has they indeed, Mr Commentator]
22 - "You do feel sorry for him as the rains run down the back of his neck." [Adrian Chiles, suggesting there are different types of rain targeting the Manager of the Ireland team]
To finish, here's a very short exchange between Martin Keown and Jonathan Pearce, with translations in orange, in case anyone is unsure on the meaning of 'experience'..
JP: "He did go down like a sack of spuds."
MK: "He used his experience, didn't he." [He cheated]
...
Sunday, 8 July 2012
8.7.12 Men's Tennis Final
Bad luck, Andy. You had a good run this year but unfortunately is wasn't meant to be. I must say that I have been narked to fuck by the establishment's obsession with your possible victory. I was hoping for a good and close game of tennis and was rewarded with such. I have no idea why I was somehow expected to cheer for you rather than Federer purely on the basis of your being born in Scotland. I remain of the opinion that the lunacy of cheering for individuals based on birthplace would be matched if we were all instead supposed to show allegiance based on common star signs, sexual orientation, food preferences, size of feet or favourite colours. Only when a player is competing for a national team in an international event does nationality have any relevance.
On the more general point of likeability being a factor when one decides on whom might be supported, Mr Murray has to date not really connected with the masses. It's not really his fault, but I cannot help but point out he is woefully short of good attributes. To lose out in terms of looks, personality, voice tone and sense of humour to Federer (a Swiss player !!!) is hardly a great start.
This year's Men's Singles Towel Wiping Final from Wimbledon was an exciting affair, with Roger Federer just managing to beat Andy Murray. The ever-cool Federer managed to complete the match with fewer unforced towel wipes, winning three sets to one.
Tennis is of course a sport with extreme demands, and players are scientifically proven to be more likely to sweat profusely - why else would such frantic wiping be an integral feature of the game? Footballers, basketball players, volleyball player and squash players are all complete lightweights in comparison, for they sweat so little and need no dab of a towel after every single point of any match, or between periods of play.
At one stage in history, it was thought that the massive problems caused by sweat had been solved through the invention of wristbands. Yet, despite wearing one on each wrist, Andy Murray is living proof that they just don't work, and that they are inadequate for the amount of liquid that pours off his face. The end result was a massive demand upon whichever ball girl was located at the back of the court, on the side from which he preferred to receive the point-by-point use of his towel. In no other sport is there a servant to allow the mopping of a brow every minute for over three hours. I noticed today that the duties of the ball girl at the back of the court were perhaps more than those of any other because in such a position, the input included mutiple facets. These were:
At set point (first set) Andy Murray needed four balls before he could be happy with two that would be okay to use for his next point. I have no idea what the criteria are for a tennis ball to make the grade, and pass inspection. The ball boys and ball girls did a great job, though they were of course expected to pick up twice as many balls as necessary. This was because they had to run around collecting those discarded by the players seconds after having requesting them.
At two games to one in favour of Federer, in the second set, Murray was serving to start the fourth game. After his minute-and-a-half rest, during which he'd no doubt prepared himself properly, he served an ace. After this single and minimal exertion, he needed the ball girl to run towards him and provide the towel for a wipe of the forehead! Pathetic. I've seen a granny cover a number on a bingo card with her dobber using more pressure than Murray used with the towel. It's all ritualistic and mad. Just an observation - doubles players do not wipe their brows every point. I am not sure why, but suspect it's got something to do with the fact that they have something else to be doing, to while away the seconds beween points. This is of course the need to taps hands/palms/fingers/knuckles with their playing partner at the end of every fucking point. What this proves, though, is that in singles, the towel wipe is an affectation and not a need.
Towels are being laundered (or stolen) as I type this report, and I give thanks for not having seen Cliff Richard. However, it's true to say that I've seen so little of the tennis this year that I may have been luckier than most - not about seeing less tennis, but missing Cliff, if he was actually around the place.
...
On the more general point of likeability being a factor when one decides on whom might be supported, Mr Murray has to date not really connected with the masses. It's not really his fault, but I cannot help but point out he is woefully short of good attributes. To lose out in terms of looks, personality, voice tone and sense of humour to Federer (a Swiss player !!!) is hardly a great start.
This year's Men's Singles Towel Wiping Final from Wimbledon was an exciting affair, with Roger Federer just managing to beat Andy Murray. The ever-cool Federer managed to complete the match with fewer unforced towel wipes, winning three sets to one.
Tennis is of course a sport with extreme demands, and players are scientifically proven to be more likely to sweat profusely - why else would such frantic wiping be an integral feature of the game? Footballers, basketball players, volleyball player and squash players are all complete lightweights in comparison, for they sweat so little and need no dab of a towel after every single point of any match, or between periods of play.
At one stage in history, it was thought that the massive problems caused by sweat had been solved through the invention of wristbands. Yet, despite wearing one on each wrist, Andy Murray is living proof that they just don't work, and that they are inadequate for the amount of liquid that pours off his face. The end result was a massive demand upon whichever ball girl was located at the back of the court, on the side from which he preferred to receive the point-by-point use of his towel. In no other sport is there a servant to allow the mopping of a brow every minute for over three hours. I noticed today that the duties of the ball girl at the back of the court were perhaps more than those of any other because in such a position, the input included mutiple facets. These were:
- Providing either three or four balls for Mr Murray to have a look at, ahead of serving.
- Retrieving one or two balls nonchalently discarded so that there were just the two in his possession needed for a first and possible second serve.
- At the end of a point during general play, running to pick up any balls terminating their journeys towards the back of the court.
- Running to offer a towel wipe at the end of every point and/or exertion by Murray.
- Replacing the towel on the chair of the line judge (who was permanently standing up just in front of it).
- Running to hand over the towel at the end of a game, as Murray went to sit in his chair.
At set point (first set) Andy Murray needed four balls before he could be happy with two that would be okay to use for his next point. I have no idea what the criteria are for a tennis ball to make the grade, and pass inspection. The ball boys and ball girls did a great job, though they were of course expected to pick up twice as many balls as necessary. This was because they had to run around collecting those discarded by the players seconds after having requesting them.
At two games to one in favour of Federer, in the second set, Murray was serving to start the fourth game. After his minute-and-a-half rest, during which he'd no doubt prepared himself properly, he served an ace. After this single and minimal exertion, he needed the ball girl to run towards him and provide the towel for a wipe of the forehead! Pathetic. I've seen a granny cover a number on a bingo card with her dobber using more pressure than Murray used with the towel. It's all ritualistic and mad. Just an observation - doubles players do not wipe their brows every point. I am not sure why, but suspect it's got something to do with the fact that they have something else to be doing, to while away the seconds beween points. This is of course the need to taps hands/palms/fingers/knuckles with their playing partner at the end of every fucking point. What this proves, though, is that in singles, the towel wipe is an affectation and not a need.
The 3 Components of Andy Murray
William Wallace Judy Murray Hard Bastard
So that's it, then, for another year. I won't have to read about Bunny Austin, or Murray Mound / Henman Hill for a while, nor wonder why the women are paid the same for 'best of three' as the men are for 'best of five', especially when for ten years it's been true that Serena Williams has been more than able to compete with the blokes. By the time Murray wins Wimbledon, I suspect Scotland would have become independent, and so I'll be expected to look for an Englishman upon whom I am supposed to pin all my hopes, cheer for incessantly, and lose all perspective.Towels are being laundered (or stolen) as I type this report, and I give thanks for not having seen Cliff Richard. However, it's true to say that I've seen so little of the tennis this year that I may have been luckier than most - not about seeing less tennis, but missing Cliff, if he was actually around the place.
...
Saturday, 7 July 2012
7.7.12 Greatest Fallacies (No. 34)
"One size fits all"
This is quite simply a lie, and despite the prevalence of this statement on all manner of items, it is an outrageous claim.
...
This is quite simply a lie, and despite the prevalence of this statement on all manner of items, it is an outrageous claim.
...
Friday, 6 July 2012
6.7.12 Newsround
BBC Lunacy
It is fucking disgraceful how wankers who run things are so ill-equipped to function. Before I am specific, let's just recap for a moment. The BBC's coverage of the Jubilee celebrations was basically shit; this view is fairly universally acknowledged and the shambolic approach was reported on by just about everyone in the media. The man in charge of this event was 49-year-old George Entwistle. On top of the fiasco of the Jubilee coverage, for which he was responsible, it should be noted that he has been at the BBC for 23 years. So you'd think that he must have been noticed by the board of the BBC Trust, who appoint for the position of Director General.
I am therefore fucking cunting disgusted that £157,000 was paid to recruitment consultants! Talk about squandering money! Spending that sort of money on 'headhunting' when there's some furniture (or should that be dead wood) under your own fucking corporate note is an outrage. Yes, the man under the nose of those running the Trust has been given the job after £157k was wasted.
24 Hours in A&E
I watched a bit of this programme the other night, and was appalled at the fucked-up state of the country, which allows the NHS to be used as a repair workshop for people who self-abuse. If I drive my car into a lamp post or put the wrong fuel in it at the BP station, then it's me who has to pay for the repairs, or the flushing of the system. However, it all changes when it comes to humans and there's apparently no cuntin' responsibility taken by arseholes who fuck themselves up and then expect to be fixed. Twats who drink so much they end up in the casualty department are draining the NHS of resources, and paying nothing for the chaos they create. Broken bones because of accidents through intoxication and/or injuries from resultant fights are all dealt with in A&E by staff who ought to help people in real need.
On this episode, loads of people were brought in suffering from the effects of taking 'GBL' and had in effect treated their bodies in the same way as putting diesel in a petrol car and wondering why it then conked out. This is shit. Die or cough up (not literally . . . . or, mabe . . . ?) because those causing their own problems at this level are stopping resources being used for rather more worthwhile things. People unlucky enough to get ill or injured should be able to expect treatment. However, there's not enough money for some treatments or operations. Yet the cunt who's got drunk at a party, taken some drugs, headbutted a copper and been dragged to hospital with a broken arm and a gash in his head will drain the department of time and effort, money, and patience (good pun, eh?). The cost for all this? Nothing, because taxpayers and the government sort it all out in a shit way at a high level. The aforementioned bloke will have numerous staff helping him 'get better' for no penalty at all - if we remove the headbutt aspect. Meanwhile, if I drive at 45mph in a 40mph zone on a duel carriageway, inconveniencing and hurting no one at all, some cunt wants to give me three points and a £60 fine (soon to be £90). The UK is fucked; the NHS is fucked; priorities in the UK are fucked. We are all fucked.
On an associated subject, it seems fucking madness that judges, who find themselves dealing with acts of violence by tossers who've taken drugs, are very often disposed to being lenient for no cunting reason - other than an apparent wish to recognise that the actions of these offenders were out of character !! Hang on . . . . . people take drugs to become something else, they become something else and bite someone's nose off and break another's leg, and the cunting judge suspends a short sentence because it was either "out of character" or a "first offence" (that anyone knows of). Shoot the cunts! This country is fucked and judges are fucking useless about 85% of the time.
Weather Or Not
We've had so much rain that whether (forgive the pun) it's summer or winter is proving to be irrelevant. However, just to help keep us on track, I was informed on a forecast a few days ago by the TV presenter masquerading as someone who has got a clue about weather that there will be some more "summer lightning" to look out for. I must say that "looking out for" lightning is not one of my favourite pastimes, and I was not actually in need of clarification on which fucking month it is, and thus which season we're in. In the UK, at the beginning of July, lightning is fucking lightning, and to call it 'summer lightning' is pathetic.
Sign Writing
Driving on the M62 is never much fun. I passed a truck that was beige and had red writing, in the colours of P&H. The main service was stated in capitals, and the strapline after it was a joke - it read as follows:
SWEETDIRECT - Always delivering retail snacking solutions
What the hell sort of world do we all live in when we need solutions for snacking? This is fucking pathetic and I'm sure some tit sat in a marketing meeting and thought it would sound good. Well, I've news for you - it sucks!
Not five minutes later a white van passed me on the inside, as heavy traffic slowed up (M62 remember) and I saw another linguistic travesty, involving another company which has followed the tired path of having to have a strapline to explain what it's all about. Strangely it opted for the same format in terms of capitals; here we go:
INNSERVE - dispense solutions passionately delivered
My gripe with this nonsense is (or should be) obvious. It's the present participle that's needed here - dispense is a verb, and in the context of the strapline, it just doesn't work! Dispensing Solutions!
Responsibility, Obesity and Gypsy
I have absolutely nothing against gypsies or fat people, or fat gypsies. Not in general. There will of course at some point be people within those categories who I find I dislike, given reason or cause, because society as a whole contains idiots, arses, and shits as well as wonderful people. Someone whose fatness directly affects things to an intolerable level will attract dislike and criticism. For example, a fat person nicking some of my airline seat space so they can fit on a plane is encroachment and inconvenience that I should not have to endure, as I am not the fatty. People who are fat because of (to some degree) their own approaches are also likely to be viewed unsympathetically when taxpayers have to stump up many thousands of pounds to ferry them around for health treatments, or have to pay for extra-strength ambulances, beds and loos. Similarly, when travellers occupy land illegally and cause an awful mess, and do not pay their fair share to society while wanting benefits that others have paid for, I will be upset - as will millions of others.
Strangely, though, we are all on the verge of being on a par with 'racists' by describing fatties as fat. How mad is it when someone eats too much and becomes medically obese (which automatically means that in my book they are also 'socially' obese, and should have to put up with the consequences) they are catered for as a standard approach. This endorses the growth in average weights and obesity. Clothes in extra sizes are everywhere; menus have portions that are labelled XXL and we're subjected to upselling all the time, with "is that a large meal?" every time an order is placed at a takeaway - the worst sort of establishment for someone to be asked if he or she would like a horse's portion. If fat people can't be called fat or obese or chunky, what's left? Big-boned? Greedy? Substantial? How come Channel 4 has aired programmes it's seen fit to call "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding" and "Thelma's Gypsy Girls" then? The obsession with Gypsy themed programmes is odd, but calling someone a Gypo is apparently racist (??!!) Is it that the wedding is 'fat' or the 'gypsy' is fat? The same query involved the 'big' aspect.
People need to take responsibility for themselves and their lives. Fat people need to look at the cause of their obesity and see what can be done about losing weight. Being a victim is not an option. Their weight is most often their own responsibility, not the state's and thus in turn, mine. Non-working people need to try and find jobs and not automatically opt out and decide they are 'victims'. Criminals need to realise their excuses and justifications for their actions are shit, and it is not society's fault that they were forced to opt for burglary or con the state out of benefits, taking government money, and so my money. Shoplifters need to admit what they do is wrong and then the price of things would not have to include an allowance for theft; in effect, I pay more so the thieves are stealing from me. Cunts who dodge taxes are costing me money. Others who are dodging taxes by manipulating rules via fancy accountancy practices and exploiting loopholes are not doing anything illegal, but the government is failing me because by letting these things prevail, less tax is collected, and the easy targets (the masses) are subsiding the high earners and clever fucks. As ever, this is costing me, and the government needs to take responsibility to collect taxes. By the way, that includes collecting proper taxes from travellers and gypsies, along with the rest of society.
Let's all adopt a new and fairer approach. Call something what it is; do what it is right to do; take responsibility for your own lives. Meanwhile, the state should take responsibility for running things properly and fairly so that everyone plays by the same rules.
Call Centre Coherence
I do not give a shit, a monkey's tit or a dog's chopper where a call centre is located. I have no qualms about a company deciding to put its customer service staff anywhere on the planet. What I DO care about is that the customer service is good. BUT - BEFORE the quality of the actual customer service (in terms of what's possible and how I can receive proper assistance, advice and resolution to any issues) can be assessed, there's an overriding factor that decides everything at the very start of any dealings - can I understand the person on the end of the line, and can he or she understand me?
I live in the UK, am British and speak English. I typically conduct my business in English, wander around England, and generally expect that my use of English services and products (bought in England from companies that operate in England) should be without hitch - but if there is a need to interact, some cunt will talk to me in English. So, when I call a directory enquiry service, I want a fucking number. The call is costing well over a quid for a fucking number (assuming I am not put through by the operator at an inflated charge, and choose to dial myself afterwards, separately) and I do not want to be fucked about. By this, I mean stuggle to make myself understood by someone who hasn't a fucking clue. Similarly, calling Barclaycard was a fucking nightmare last week, and I hung up. I just could not understand what this fucking twat was saying to me, and I was as frustrated as hell. I called a delivery company a week ago in Leeds and was equally fucked off. In the end I was put through to someone else who was much more intelligent and better equipped to converse with me. She had a full 17 active brain cells and a modicum of competence in the language, so after engaging 17 of my own brain cells, we managed an interchange at what was probably an amoebic level.
Wherever I call to get service, I want service in English. It is NOT the fault of anyone in Asia, India, South America, or even the USA (!) because the person given a job to answer phones wants to make a living, and deserves a chance to do so. My gripe is that those given the chance to do any job should be QUALIFIED to do it. I suggest to every fucking company that whether the person representing you is based in the UK or abroad, they should speak English well, and understand English. If not, they should not be given the job! So, this is not racism at all, it is fit-for-purpose-ness, plain and simple. If a customer is talking to a representative and struggling to hear/understand over a phone the speech/accent/delivery/style/content [delete as appropriate] and/or is struggling to make himself/herself understood by someone who's clearly from a different background/location/culture/planet, then there's a problem and everything is compromised.
...
It is fucking disgraceful how wankers who run things are so ill-equipped to function. Before I am specific, let's just recap for a moment. The BBC's coverage of the Jubilee celebrations was basically shit; this view is fairly universally acknowledged and the shambolic approach was reported on by just about everyone in the media. The man in charge of this event was 49-year-old George Entwistle. On top of the fiasco of the Jubilee coverage, for which he was responsible, it should be noted that he has been at the BBC for 23 years. So you'd think that he must have been noticed by the board of the BBC Trust, who appoint for the position of Director General.
I am therefore fucking cunting disgusted that £157,000 was paid to recruitment consultants! Talk about squandering money! Spending that sort of money on 'headhunting' when there's some furniture (or should that be dead wood) under your own fucking corporate note is an outrage. Yes, the man under the nose of those running the Trust has been given the job after £157k was wasted.
24 Hours in A&E
I watched a bit of this programme the other night, and was appalled at the fucked-up state of the country, which allows the NHS to be used as a repair workshop for people who self-abuse. If I drive my car into a lamp post or put the wrong fuel in it at the BP station, then it's me who has to pay for the repairs, or the flushing of the system. However, it all changes when it comes to humans and there's apparently no cuntin' responsibility taken by arseholes who fuck themselves up and then expect to be fixed. Twats who drink so much they end up in the casualty department are draining the NHS of resources, and paying nothing for the chaos they create. Broken bones because of accidents through intoxication and/or injuries from resultant fights are all dealt with in A&E by staff who ought to help people in real need.
On this episode, loads of people were brought in suffering from the effects of taking 'GBL' and had in effect treated their bodies in the same way as putting diesel in a petrol car and wondering why it then conked out. This is shit. Die or cough up (not literally . . . . or, mabe . . . ?) because those causing their own problems at this level are stopping resources being used for rather more worthwhile things. People unlucky enough to get ill or injured should be able to expect treatment. However, there's not enough money for some treatments or operations. Yet the cunt who's got drunk at a party, taken some drugs, headbutted a copper and been dragged to hospital with a broken arm and a gash in his head will drain the department of time and effort, money, and patience (good pun, eh?). The cost for all this? Nothing, because taxpayers and the government sort it all out in a shit way at a high level. The aforementioned bloke will have numerous staff helping him 'get better' for no penalty at all - if we remove the headbutt aspect. Meanwhile, if I drive at 45mph in a 40mph zone on a duel carriageway, inconveniencing and hurting no one at all, some cunt wants to give me three points and a £60 fine (soon to be £90). The UK is fucked; the NHS is fucked; priorities in the UK are fucked. We are all fucked.
On an associated subject, it seems fucking madness that judges, who find themselves dealing with acts of violence by tossers who've taken drugs, are very often disposed to being lenient for no cunting reason - other than an apparent wish to recognise that the actions of these offenders were out of character !! Hang on . . . . . people take drugs to become something else, they become something else and bite someone's nose off and break another's leg, and the cunting judge suspends a short sentence because it was either "out of character" or a "first offence" (that anyone knows of). Shoot the cunts! This country is fucked and judges are fucking useless about 85% of the time.
Weather Or Not
We've had so much rain that whether (forgive the pun) it's summer or winter is proving to be irrelevant. However, just to help keep us on track, I was informed on a forecast a few days ago by the TV presenter masquerading as someone who has got a clue about weather that there will be some more "summer lightning" to look out for. I must say that "looking out for" lightning is not one of my favourite pastimes, and I was not actually in need of clarification on which fucking month it is, and thus which season we're in. In the UK, at the beginning of July, lightning is fucking lightning, and to call it 'summer lightning' is pathetic.
Sign Writing
Driving on the M62 is never much fun. I passed a truck that was beige and had red writing, in the colours of P&H. The main service was stated in capitals, and the strapline after it was a joke - it read as follows:
SWEETDIRECT - Always delivering retail snacking solutions
What the hell sort of world do we all live in when we need solutions for snacking? This is fucking pathetic and I'm sure some tit sat in a marketing meeting and thought it would sound good. Well, I've news for you - it sucks!
Not five minutes later a white van passed me on the inside, as heavy traffic slowed up (M62 remember) and I saw another linguistic travesty, involving another company which has followed the tired path of having to have a strapline to explain what it's all about. Strangely it opted for the same format in terms of capitals; here we go:
INNSERVE - dispense solutions passionately delivered
My gripe with this nonsense is (or should be) obvious. It's the present participle that's needed here - dispense is a verb, and in the context of the strapline, it just doesn't work! Dispensing Solutions!
Responsibility, Obesity and Gypsy
I have absolutely nothing against gypsies or fat people, or fat gypsies. Not in general. There will of course at some point be people within those categories who I find I dislike, given reason or cause, because society as a whole contains idiots, arses, and shits as well as wonderful people. Someone whose fatness directly affects things to an intolerable level will attract dislike and criticism. For example, a fat person nicking some of my airline seat space so they can fit on a plane is encroachment and inconvenience that I should not have to endure, as I am not the fatty. People who are fat because of (to some degree) their own approaches are also likely to be viewed unsympathetically when taxpayers have to stump up many thousands of pounds to ferry them around for health treatments, or have to pay for extra-strength ambulances, beds and loos. Similarly, when travellers occupy land illegally and cause an awful mess, and do not pay their fair share to society while wanting benefits that others have paid for, I will be upset - as will millions of others.
Strangely, though, we are all on the verge of being on a par with 'racists' by describing fatties as fat. How mad is it when someone eats too much and becomes medically obese (which automatically means that in my book they are also 'socially' obese, and should have to put up with the consequences) they are catered for as a standard approach. This endorses the growth in average weights and obesity. Clothes in extra sizes are everywhere; menus have portions that are labelled XXL and we're subjected to upselling all the time, with "is that a large meal?" every time an order is placed at a takeaway - the worst sort of establishment for someone to be asked if he or she would like a horse's portion. If fat people can't be called fat or obese or chunky, what's left? Big-boned? Greedy? Substantial? How come Channel 4 has aired programmes it's seen fit to call "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding" and "Thelma's Gypsy Girls" then? The obsession with Gypsy themed programmes is odd, but calling someone a Gypo is apparently racist (??!!) Is it that the wedding is 'fat' or the 'gypsy' is fat? The same query involved the 'big' aspect.
People need to take responsibility for themselves and their lives. Fat people need to look at the cause of their obesity and see what can be done about losing weight. Being a victim is not an option. Their weight is most often their own responsibility, not the state's and thus in turn, mine. Non-working people need to try and find jobs and not automatically opt out and decide they are 'victims'. Criminals need to realise their excuses and justifications for their actions are shit, and it is not society's fault that they were forced to opt for burglary or con the state out of benefits, taking government money, and so my money. Shoplifters need to admit what they do is wrong and then the price of things would not have to include an allowance for theft; in effect, I pay more so the thieves are stealing from me. Cunts who dodge taxes are costing me money. Others who are dodging taxes by manipulating rules via fancy accountancy practices and exploiting loopholes are not doing anything illegal, but the government is failing me because by letting these things prevail, less tax is collected, and the easy targets (the masses) are subsiding the high earners and clever fucks. As ever, this is costing me, and the government needs to take responsibility to collect taxes. By the way, that includes collecting proper taxes from travellers and gypsies, along with the rest of society.
Let's all adopt a new and fairer approach. Call something what it is; do what it is right to do; take responsibility for your own lives. Meanwhile, the state should take responsibility for running things properly and fairly so that everyone plays by the same rules.
Call Centre Coherence
I do not give a shit, a monkey's tit or a dog's chopper where a call centre is located. I have no qualms about a company deciding to put its customer service staff anywhere on the planet. What I DO care about is that the customer service is good. BUT - BEFORE the quality of the actual customer service (in terms of what's possible and how I can receive proper assistance, advice and resolution to any issues) can be assessed, there's an overriding factor that decides everything at the very start of any dealings - can I understand the person on the end of the line, and can he or she understand me?
I live in the UK, am British and speak English. I typically conduct my business in English, wander around England, and generally expect that my use of English services and products (bought in England from companies that operate in England) should be without hitch - but if there is a need to interact, some cunt will talk to me in English. So, when I call a directory enquiry service, I want a fucking number. The call is costing well over a quid for a fucking number (assuming I am not put through by the operator at an inflated charge, and choose to dial myself afterwards, separately) and I do not want to be fucked about. By this, I mean stuggle to make myself understood by someone who hasn't a fucking clue. Similarly, calling Barclaycard was a fucking nightmare last week, and I hung up. I just could not understand what this fucking twat was saying to me, and I was as frustrated as hell. I called a delivery company a week ago in Leeds and was equally fucked off. In the end I was put through to someone else who was much more intelligent and better equipped to converse with me. She had a full 17 active brain cells and a modicum of competence in the language, so after engaging 17 of my own brain cells, we managed an interchange at what was probably an amoebic level.
Wherever I call to get service, I want service in English. It is NOT the fault of anyone in Asia, India, South America, or even the USA (!) because the person given a job to answer phones wants to make a living, and deserves a chance to do so. My gripe is that those given the chance to do any job should be QUALIFIED to do it. I suggest to every fucking company that whether the person representing you is based in the UK or abroad, they should speak English well, and understand English. If not, they should not be given the job! So, this is not racism at all, it is fit-for-purpose-ness, plain and simple. If a customer is talking to a representative and struggling to hear/understand over a phone the speech/accent/delivery/style/content [delete as appropriate] and/or is struggling to make himself/herself understood by someone who's clearly from a different background/location/culture/planet, then there's a problem and everything is compromised.
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