You should all be ashamed of yourself

gerky

Everyday day there's threads whining and ranting about this and that, well take a look at this and don't dare to call yourself a complainer, this man has made it in to an artform:D

Dear Mr Branson

REF: Mumbai to Heathrow 7th December 2008

I love the Virgin brand, I really do which is why I continue to use it despite a series of unfortunate incidents over the last few years. This latest incident takes the biscuit.

Ironically, by the end of the flight I would have gladly paid over a thousand rupees for a single biscuit following the culinary journey of hell I was subjected to at thehands of your corporation.

Look at this Richard. Just look at it: [see image 1, above].

I imagine the same questions are racing through your brilliant mind as were racing through mine on that fateful day. What is this? Why have I been given it? What have I done to deserve this? And, which one is the starter, which one is the desert?

You don’t get to a position like yours Richard with anything less than a generous sprinkling of observational power so I KNOW you will have spotted the tomato next to the two yellow shafts of sponge on the left. Yes, it’s next to the sponge shaft without the green paste. That’s got to be the clue hasn’t it. No sane person would serve a desert with a tomato would they. Well answer me this Richard, what sort of animal would serve a desert with peas in: [see image 2, above].

I know it looks like a baaji but it’s in custard Richard, custard. It must be the pudding. Well you’ll be fascinated to hear that it wasn't custard. It was a sour gel with a clear oil on top. It’s only redeeming feature was that it managed to be so alien to my palette that it took away the taste of the curry emanating from our miscellaneous central cuboid of beige matter. Perhaps the meal on the left might be the desert after all.

Anyway, this is all irrelevant at the moment. I was raised strictly but neatly by my parents and if they knew I had started desert before the main course, a sponge shaft would be the least of my worries. So lets peel back the tin-foil on the main dish and see what’s on offer.

I’ll try and explain how this felt. Imagine being a twelve year old boy Richard. Now imagine it’s Christmas morning and you’re sat their with your final present to open. It’s a big one, and you know what it is. It’s that Goodmans stereo you picked out the catalogue and wrote to Santa about.

Only you open the present and it’s not in there. It’s your hamster Richard. It’s your hamster in the box and it’s not breathing. That’s how I felt when I peeled back the foil and saw this: [see image 3, above].

Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it’s more of that Baaji custard. I admit I thought the same too, but no. It’s mustard Richard. MUSTARD. More mustard than any man could consume in a month. On the left we have a piece of broccoli and some peppers in a brown glue-like oil and on the right the chef had prepared some mashed potato. The potato masher had obviously broken and so it was decided the next best thing would be to pass the potatoes through the digestive tract of a bird.

Once it was regurgitated it was clearly then blended and mixed with a bit of mustard. Everybody likes a bit of mustard Richard.

By now I was actually starting to feel a little hypoglycaemic. I needed a sugar hit. Luckily there was a small cookie provided. It had caught my eye earlier due to it’s baffling presentation: [see image 4, above].

It appears to be in an evidence bag from the scene of a crime. A CRIME AGAINST BLOODY COOKING. Either that or some sort of back-street underground cookie, purchased off a gun-toting maniac high on his own supply of yeast. You certainly wouldn’t want to be caught carrying one of these through customs. Imagine biting into a piece of brass Richard. That would be softer on the teeth than the specimen above.

I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was relax but obviously I had to sit with that mess in front of me for half an hour. I swear the sponge shafts moved at one point.

Once cleared, I decided to relax with a bit of your world-famous onboard entertainment. I switched it on: [see image 5, above].

I apologise for the quality of the photo, it’s just it was incredibly hard to capture Boris Johnson’s face through the flickering white lines running up and down the screen. Perhaps it would be better on another channel: [see image 6, above].

Is that Ray Liotta? A question I found myself asking over and over again throughout the gruelling half-hour I attempted to watch the film like this. After that I switched off. I’d had enough. I was the hungriest I’d been in my adult life and I had a splitting headache from squinting at a crackling screen.

My only option was to simply stare at the seat in front and wait for either food, or sleep. Neither came for an incredibly long time. But when it did it surpassed my wildest expectations: [see image 7, above].

Yes! It’s another crime-scene cookie. Only this time you dunk it in the white stuff.

Richard…. What is that white stuff? It looked like it was going to be yoghurt. It finally dawned on me what it was after staring at it. It was a mixture between the Baaji custard and the Mustard sauce. It reminded me of my first week at university. I had overheard that you could make a drink by mixing vodka and refreshers. I lied to my new friends and told them I’d done it loads of times. When I attempted to make the drink in a big bowl it formed a cheese Richard, a cheese. That cheese looked a lot like your baaji-mustard.

So that was that Richard. I didn’t eat a bloody thing. My only question is: How can you live like this? I can’t imagine what dinner round your house is like, it must be like something out of a nature documentary.

As I said at the start I love your brand, I really do. It’s just a shame such a simple thing could bring it crashing to it’s knees and begging for sustenance.

Yours Sincererly

XXXX

* Paul Charles, Virgin’s Director of Corporate Communications, confirmed that Sir Richard Branson had telephoned the author of the letter and had thanked him for his “constructive if tongue-in-cheek” email. Mr Charles said that Virgin was sorry the passenger had not liked the in-flight meals which he said was “award-winning food which is very popular on our Indian routes.”

And then

A passenger who wrote an amusing complaint letter to Virgin Atlantic has been invited by Sir Richard Branson to select the food and wines for future Virgin flights.


By Charles Starmer-Smith
Last Updated: 12:50PM GMT 28 Jan 2009
Virgin complaint letter: Author of Virgin letter offered chance as airline's food tester


The complainant contacted Sir Richard, the chief executive of the airline, after a flight from Mumbai to Heathrow on December 7 last year, to convey his disappointment with the food served on board the airline.

The letter, which also included five photographs of the “offending” dishes, has been circulated around the world and has been almost universally praised for its pointedness and humour.

The London-based passenger has since received a call from Sir Richard inviting him to come to the airline’s catering house next month, to help select the food on future Virgin flights. The passenger has not yet confirmed whether he would take up the opportunity.

“While we investigated his complaint seriously, and following Richard Branson’s phone call we’ve invited him to our catering house to select the next range of meals and wines we serve on board,” said a spokesman for Virgin Atlantic. “Then we can ensure his personal taste is well and truly catered for.”

In his letter, the passenger said that opening the lid of the main meal was like being given a "dead hamster for Christmas".

"Imagine being a 12-year-old boy Richard,” he wrote. “Now imagine it's Christmas morning and you're sat there with your final present to open. It's a big one, and you know what it is. It's that Goodmans’ stereo you picked out of the catalogue and wrote to Santa about. Only you open the present and it's not in there. It's your hamster, Richard. It's your hamster in the box and it's not breathing. That's how I felt when I peeled back the foil.”

In an ongoing poll of Telegraph readers asking which airline provides the best meals, Virgin Atlantic currently lies third (15 per cent) behind Singapore Airlines (40 per cent) and British Airways (20 per cent).

To have your say see telegraph.co.uk/travel

That's how you complain:D

brianthebard

pics or gtfo

Princess Consuela Bananahammock

gerky wrote: »

Everyday day there's threads whining and ranting about this and that, well take a look at this and don't dare to call yourself a complainer, this man has made it in to an artform:D





And then







That's how you complain:D

They guy should fly Ryanair.

SAVE_ME.222

cba reading all that

Fizman

OP you should be ashamed of yourself if you expect me to read all that during my lunch!!



Care to write up a brief synopsis? :pac:

gerky

brianthebard wrote: »

pics or gtfo

Ask and you shall receive,
http://www.popbitch.com/home/which-one-is-the-starter-which-one-is-the-desert/

r3nu4l

brianthebard wrote: »

pics or gtfo

Pics + Article

You can scroll through the pics

gerky

Fizman wrote: »

OP you should be ashamed of yourself if you expect me to read all that during my lunch!!



Care to write up a brief synopsis? :pac:

He wrote a smart arsed well written complaint letter and got offered a job:)

javaboy

Richard Branson wrote:

tl;dr

+1

gerky

SAVE_ME.222 wrote: »

cba reading all that

And yet you were bothered enough to reply...... the mind boggles.

Berty

ROFL

and pics or GTFO.

The Mad Hatter

Wait, we should be ashamed of myself? *feels sad*

Wagon

Just another example of a self important upper class tosser making his way in the world. He can go to sleep at night thinking he has done well but most of the planet thinks he's still an arsehole.

gerky

Berty wrote: »

ROFL

and pics or GTFO.

Look up^^^

buckieburd

Genuine complaint to Edinburgh Police Force, makes me laugh every time!!

Anonymised correspondence from a member of the public


Dear Sir/madam/automated telephone answering service

Having spent the past twenty minutes waiting for someone at Leith police station to pick up a telephone I have decided to abandon the idea and try e-mailing you instead. Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass this meassage on to your colleagues in Leith by means of smoke signal, carrier pigeon or ouji board.

As I'm writing this e-mail there are eleven failed medical experiments (I think you call them youths) in West Cromwell Street which is just off Commercial Street in Leith. Six of them seem happy enough to play a game which involves kicking a football against an iron gate with the force of a meteorite. This causes an earth shattering CLANG! which rings throughout the entire building. This game is now in it's third week and as I am unsure how the scoring sytem works, I have no idea if it will end any time soon.

The remaining five walking abortions are happily rummaging through several bags of rubbish and items of furniture that someone has so thoughtfully dumped beside the wheelie bins. One of them has found a saw and is setting about a discarded chair like a beaver on speed. I fear that it's only a matter of time before they turn their limited attention to the bottle of calor gas that is lying on it's side between the two bins. If they could be relied on to only blow their own arms and legs off then I would happily leave them to it. I would even go so far as to lend them the matches. Unfortuneatly they are far more likely to blow up half the street with them and I've just finished decorating the kitchen.

What I suggest is this. after replying to this e-mail with worthless assurances that the matter is being looked into and will be dealt with, why not leave it until the one night of the year (probably bath night) when there are no mutants around then drive up the street in a panda car before doing a three point turn and disappearing again. This will of course serve no ther purpose than to remind us what policemen actually look like.

I trust that when I take a clawhammer to the skull of one of these throwbacks you'll do me the same courtesy of giving me a four month head start before coming to arrest me.

I remain sir, your obedient servant
?????????

Mr ??????,

I have read your e-mail and understand you frustration at the problems caused by youth playing in the area and the problems you have encountered in trying to contact the police.

As the Community Beat Officer for your street I would like to extend an offer of discussing the matter fully with you.

Should you wish to discuss the matter, please provide contact details (address / telephone number) and when may be suitable.

Regards

PC ???
?????????????
Community Beat Officer




Dear PC ?????

First of all I would like to thank you for the speedy response to my original e-mail. 16 hours and 38 minutes must be a personal record for Leith Police station and rest assured that I will forward these details to Norris McWhirter for inclusion in his next book.

Secondly I was delighted to hear that our street has it's own community beat officer. May I be the first to congratulate you on your covert skills. In the five or so years I have lived in West Cromwell Street, I have never seen you. Do you hide up a tree or have you gone deep undercover and infiltrated the gang itself? Are you the one with the acne and the moustache on his forehead or the one with a chin like a wash hand basin? It's surely only a matter of time before you are headhunted by MI5.

Whilst I realise that there may be far more serious crimes taking place in Leith such as smoking in a public place or being Muslim without due care and attention, is it too much to ask for a policeman to explain (using words of no more than two syllables at a time) to these twats that they might want to play their strange football game elsewhere. The pitch behind the Citadel or the one at DKs are both within spitting distance as is the bottom of the Albert Dock.

Should you wish to discuss these matters further you should feel free to contact me on ??? ????. If after 25 minutes I have still failed to answer, I'll buy you a large one in the Compass Bar.

Regards
???????

P.S If you think that this is sarcasm, think yourself lucky that you don't work for the cleansing department.

Berty

gerky wrote: »

Look up^^^

All I see is the headliner in my car. :rolleyes:

themilkyone

Wagon wrote: »

most of the planet thinks he's still an arsehole.

I don't. HERO!

Riddle101

I can understand his pain, i hate airline food it's the worst.

themilkyone

Riddle101 wrote: »

I can understand his pain, i hate airline food it's the worst.

Whats the best??

Riddle101

themilkyone wrote: »

Whats the best??

Seafood, nice cod and chips to settle your appetite smothered in Vinegar:D yum yum