Humourous Notes & Letters

virtually dead

Simply Thrilled, Honey
I have immersed myself completely in the Death Clock (www.deathclock.com) 's letter page. It's a revelation.

My favourite
' I am hihly Ofented by yer site. I ast it when I wuld dy and it said yist'rday...Yer a hartless basterd'

Please post here all your humourous notes and letters.
 
Classic:
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I have immersed myself completely in the Death Clock (www.deathclock.com) 's letter page. It's a revelation.

My favourite
' I am hihly Ofented by yer site. I ast it when I wuld dy and it said yist'rday...Yer a hartless basterd'

Please post here all your humourous notes and letters.

The deathclock letters are great :D

i am a poor german woman. i had to work very hard to come to america. and i got on my feet, and eventually bought a computer. i was browsing the web, and came to your site. what i saw shocked me, and made me cry. to predict death, is such a sin that deserves the penalty of death. i was so outraged, that i wish i never came to america to see this FILTH!!!! i hope you are happy. you made me regret my whole life dream.
 
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This a copy of a complaint letter that was actually received by NTL according to our sources.

Dear Cretins,

I have been an NTL customer since 9th July 2001, when I signed up for your 3-in-one deal for cable TV, cable modem, and telephone.

During this three-month period I have encountered inadequacy of service which I had not previously considered possible, as well as ignorance and stupidity of monolithic proportions. Please allow me to provide specific details, so that you can either pursue your professional prerogative, and seek to rectify these difficulties - or more likely (I suspect) so that you can have some entertaining reading material as you while away the working day smoking B&H and drinking vendor-coffee on the bog in your office.

My initial installation was cancelled without warning or notice, resulting in my spending an entire Saturday sitting on my fat arse waiting for your technician to arrive. When he did not arrive at all, I spent a further 57 minutes listening to your infuriating hold music, and the even more annoying Scottish robot woman telling me to look at your helpful website.... how? I alleviated the boredom to some small degree by playing with my testi*les for a few minutes - an activity at which you are no-doubt both familiar and highly adept.

The rescheduled installation then took place some two weeks later, although the technician did forget to bring a number of vital tools - such as a drill-bit, and his cerebrum.

Two weeks later, my cable modem had still not arrived. After several further telephone calls (actually 15 telephone calls over 4 weeks) my modem arrived ... a total of six weeks after I had requested it, and begun to pay for it. I estimate that the downtime of your internet servers is roughly 35%... these are usually the hours between about 6pm and midnight, Monday to Friday, and most of the useful periods over the weekend.

I am still waiting for my telephone connection. I have made 9 telephone calls on my mobile to your no-help line this week, and have been unhelpfully transferred to a variety of disinterested individuals, who are it seems also highly skilled bollock jugglers.

I have been informed that a telephone line is available (and someone will call me back), that no telephone line is available (and someone will call me back), that I will be transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been cut off), that I will be transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been redirected to an answer machine informing me that your office is closed), that I will be transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been redirected to the irritating Scottish robot woman.... and several other variations on this theme.

Doubtless you are no-longer reading this letter, as you have at least a thousand other dissatisfied customers to ignore, and also another one of those crucially important testicle-moments to attend to. Frankly I don't care, it's far more satisfying as a customer to voice my frustrations in print than to shout them at your unending hold music. Forgive me, therefore, if I continue.

I thought BT were sh*t, that they had attained the holy piss-pot of god-awful customer relations, that no-one, anywhere, ever, could be more disinterested, less helpful or more obstructive to delivering service to their customers. That's why I chose NTL, and because, well, there isn't anyone else is there?

How surprised I therefore was, when I discovered to my considerable dissatisfaction and disappointment what a useless shower of bastards you truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of distended rectum - incompetents of the highest order. British Telecom - wankers though they are - shine like brilliant beacons of success, in the filthy puss-filled mire of your seemingly limitless inadequacy.

Suffice to say that I have now given up on my futile and foolhardy quest to receive any kind of service from you. I suggest that you do likewise, and cease any potential future attempts to extort payment from me for the services which you have so pointedly and catastrophically failed to deliver

- any such activity will be greeted initially with hilarity and disbelief - although these feelings will quickly be replaced by derision, and even perhaps a small measure of bemused rage.

I enclose two small deposits, selected with great care from my cats litter tray, as an expression of my utter and complete contempt for both you, and your pointless company. I sincerely hope that they have not become desiccated during transit - they were satisfyingly moist at the time of posting, and I would feel considerable disappointment if you did not experience both their rich aroma and delicate texture. Consider them the very embodiment of my feelings towards NTL, and it's worthless employees.

Have a nice day - may it be the last in you miserable short life, you irritatingly incompetent and infuriatingly unhelpful bunch of tw*ts,

Yours psychotically

John Doe [editor's note: name changed to protect the innocent]
 
so that you can have some entertaining reading material as you while away the working day smoking B&H

:eek: Probably the most schockingly contemptuous bit in the letter. "I agree! B&H are despicable!" :sick:

About the plane letter, well me once when sitting on a plane, I started feeling really hot. (litterally). I couldn't figure out what the f*** was wrong with me. I started sweating. I took my jumper off ("woohoo!") I almost passed out. I looked at the air hostess passing by with a "help me I'm dying here" look in my eyes. No reaction. So as usual I thought it was just my imagination. I drank some water, but it wouldn't pass. I was approaching fainting point fast when suddenly it stopped, and I started feeling ok again.

Possible explanation:
a)-I was sitting directly above the jet engine.
b)-The plane had stopped rising.

Will never know if it's technically possible. Never wrote to anybody about it either. ("Dear cretins who designed that plane..."). (Plus it's true, hormones were playing up a bit...) There you go then: another Aircraft Mystery.

Anyway. Very entertaining thread.:cool:
 
:eek: Probably the most schockingly contemptuous bit in the letter. "I agree! B&H are despicable!" :sick:

About the plane letter, well me once when sitting on a plane, I started feeling really hot. (litterally). I couldn't figure out what the f*** was wrong with me. I started sweating. I took my jumper off ("woohoo!") I almost passed out. I looked at the air hostess passing by with a "help me I'm dying here" look in my eyes. No reaction. So as usual I thought it was just my imagination. I drank some water, but it wouldn't pass. I was approaching fainting point fast when suddenly it stopped, and I started feeling ok again.

Possible explanation:
a)-I was sitting directly above the jet engine.
b)-The plane had stopped rising.

Will never know if it's technically possible. Never wrote to anybody about it either. ("Dear cretins who designed that plane..."). (Plus it's true, hormones were playing up a bit...) There you go then: another Aircraft Mystery.

Anyway. Very entertaining thread.:cool:

That's called a hot flash, sugar. We middle aged people get them. ;)
 
That's called a hot flash, sugar. We middle aged people get them. ;)

Yo I'm not in my doggypause years yet! :eek::tears:

By the bye, I got your Tomato innuendo in another thread. Just so you know, it wasn't me. Luv 'em tomatoes, in a whopper, or just with a touch of olive oil and a few slices of dioxin-free mozzarella. (which you obtain by eradicating all of Nancy Sinatra's cousins, incidentally -sorry Nance.)

If the innuendo wasn't there, ...I got it anyway.:mad:

...:p
 
I highly recommend you all read Robert Popper's* The Timewaster Letters (and its
sequel) for a right good giggle at ridiculous correspondence (both to and from the author and a selection of equally nonsensical organisations).... :D


*he also of BBC2's 'Look Around You' :)
 
One of my favorite postcards:

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"Hello! See! I keep my promise. sometimes....Saw two of your friends walking in Coldwater last evening - guess you don't keep your promises. Have a Heart. The poor girls looked very tired and weary. Your old friend. H.B."

-- 1915
 
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