This week, I made the grave mistake of updating the software on my iPhone.  Just like last time, the Bluetooth in my car could no longer see the phone.  That made me rather cross...

And by email to tcook@apple.com

Dear Tim,

I love my iPhone.  I’m pretty crazy about my iPad too. 

I work in the design business so I truly appreciate the flawless combination of cutting edge technology and sublime aesthetics.  Apple products genuinely have set a new benchmark for product design. 

However,  iTunes is a crock of shit Tim. 

I used to get better software on the 3½“ floppy disks stuck to the front of the early PC Magazines back in the days when a 48Mb hard drive was as cool as penguin piss.  There are an awful lot of awful things I despise about iTunes but the thing I hate the most are the iPhone software updates.  They are the inflatable dartboard of the software world.  The chocolate teapot of programming.

The other day, it just so happens that I was trying to get some photographs off my iPhone onto my laptop.  No matter how I tried, Explorer and My Computer could not see the iPhone.  So, I started iTunes and it informed me that my phone needed updating.  I naturally figured that this could be the source of the problem and so reluctantly clicked on the horrid little button.

To my initial delight, it worked.  Everything was absolutely fine until I tried to use the iPhone in my car.  As far as the car was concerned Tim, my iPhone had simply disappeared.  The laptop could see the phone as clear as day.  The car was now as blind as a bat.

What gives you the right, Tim, to change the software so that my BMW voice-activated Bluetooth no longer talks to my iPhone?  There wasn’t anything wrong with the Bluetooth, so why the hell did you change it?  Why did you fix something that wasn't broken?  Why did you dick around with it?  WHY?

Do you know how much it costs to update the Bluetooth software in a BMW Tim?  Do you?

Well, as of this morning, it cost £100.00 (including VAT).  That’s $154 Tim.  And that’s actually gone down in price.  The last time you fu#@ed up my Bluetooth, it cost me £147 ($226).

But it’s not just me is it, Tim?

BMW sold 1.54 million[1] out of a global total of 60 million cars sold last year.  So, on that basis, 2.6% of the cars in the world are BMWs.  As there are over 1 billion cars on the planet, that means there are at least 26 million BMWs.  Let’s say for the sake of argument that just 30% of those are fitted with Bluetooth (although it’s probably far more than that). 

So, we have at least 7.8 million BMW drivers with Bluetooth.  Given that your share of the global smartphone market is 18.2% and it is reasonably safe to assume that if you can afford a BMW with Bluetooth, you're also going to have a smartphone, it follows that you have seriously pissed off just over 1.4 million people!

If each of these is paying an average of $154 to fix the problem you created, then you have forced your customers to squander more than $215 million.  TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN MILLION DOLLARS TIM!

And that’s just the BMW drivers.  If we add in the Minis, the Mercedes, the Lexuses, the Range Rovers, the Jaguars and, who knows, even a few American cars, you have caused the pissing away of BILLIONS OF DOLLARS!

Damn it all Tim, that’s even more than you earn!

And that’s just scratching the surface.  Imagine if you add in all the downtime.

This week, I have had to drive to Bath and Glasgow.  For your information Tim, those places are at opposite ends of our little island[2] and each of them is a four hour drive away from my home.  So that’s two round trips of eight hours or 16 hours in total.  The reason that I paid BMW’s obscene premium to have the hands-free Bluetooth in the first place was so that I could make calls whilst on long journeys such as this.  Ordinarily, I would spend most of my time on the phone in connection with my business.  As I have already said, I work in the design business and I’m actually pretty good at my job. Let’s say that my time is conservatively worth $300 per hour and I would have spent just half my time productively on the phone. 

That’s another $2,400 you owe me Tim – plus a couple of hours to go and get the bloody software upgrade done in the first place so that makes it a round $3,000 in downtime.

Then there’s the loss of productivity back at the office because my team couldn’t get hold of me.  We’ve got 18 highly skilled design staff back at the ranch and several of them were unable to get their work done because I was unavailable for 16 hours.  Estimated cost to our business - $8,000.

I appreciate that I represent just 6.76x10^-10 of your global market share, [3] but you’re a very clever guy and clever guys listen to their customers.  So, stop messing with the Bluetooth every time you update the phone software.  Get iTunes replaced with a half decent piece of software. Stop pissing off the people whose money you take home every month.  If you don’t, that stock price is only going one way.

In the meantime, you owe me $11,154.  You can make your cheque[4] payable to me and remit it to the address at the head of the snail mail copy of this letter.

Sincerely,

Anthony Matthews

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This letter was submitted by Jen Bridges, author of the highly original OfHerbsAndAltars Blog (link in sidebar for those who are not easily offended).  This is one of Jen's less unusual letters and it received a great reply from Nestlé:

“Dear Minion to Nestlé,

I write to you today, regarding your ‘Ski Lemon Mousse’. I saw the packaging and thought, ‘Mmm, lemon mousse, well that sounds very nice indeed!’ I gaily tossed one into my basket, then thought ‘What the hell – I shall go wild and buy two packages, for where could I ever go wrong with something so wonderful as a lemon mousse’. So, I survived the Easter Saturday till-scrum, and skipped joyfully home with my purchases. On arrival, I gleefully whipped the top from said mousse. Oh dear, I said to myself sadly, surveying the deflated spooge inside. It was a sickly shade, akin to the spongey yellow skin of a drained corpse. I stuck my spoon into it, and it only got worse. Around the outside, there was a strange, dribbly secretion , resembling some kind of unpleasant mucus. And think yourself lucky, dear reader, for this is the less explicit metaphor I could have used. But, I thought, come now – one should not judge a book by its cover, beauty is in the eye of the beholder! So I took one giant leap for mankind, and put the spoon in my mouth… It tasted, dear reader, like crap. Now, as you realise, I would prefer to use a flowery, poetic metaphor – a one word description cannot build a full picture, I feel! But sadly, the only word that suffices, is crap. The texture was something akin to polly filler, a sort of unpleasant, shrivelling squidge.

On the pot, I see gleaming, juicy, Sicilian lemons, against a backdrop of bright blue sky – warmth, promise, beauty! Oh, cruel world that you are, to offer such promise, and deliver such spooge.

I survey the pot, morbidly curious about this nemesis, this cruel demon that has cast so much misery into my path. I see it describes the aforementioned mucus as ‘meringue style sauce’. Oh deary me. I delve into my pot, searching for answers. The mucus bubbles wetly, pooling beneath the frothy spittle of the spooge, resembling nothing more than stale urine.

I could go on, waxing poetical about the Jism of Beelzebub that is the Ski Lemon Mousse. I am tempted to go on a conquest of tasting, sampling the others flavours of Ski Mousse, mayhaps sending you a cheerful communication on the subject of each. But I won’t. I have things to do, like sitting down. But I feel you needed to know, dear reader – the truth is out. It is within you now, like a hookworm, wriggling as it burrows into your stomach lining. You have the truth – what you choose to do with it is up to you. Are you up to the challenge, brave warrior, of single handedly toppling the evil Ski Mousse Empire, armed with this burning sword of truth?

Fare thee well, little crusader. May the spooge be with you.

Samuel

(Gratefully hijacking this email address. I don’t have one – ghastly things. I do rather like Youtube though…)”

 And Nestlé's reply: 

“Dear Samuel

Thank you for getting in touch about our Ski Lemon Mousse.

We were of course very surprised and disappointed to hear that our popular and yummy dessert was so unappreciated by your clearly very refined palette.

Of course we appreciate that every man, woman and child cannot enjoy all of our products and taste in food is very much subjective, but we also appreciate the honest and articulate feedback that you have given us. We will of course pass this on to our colleagues in the marketing and brand teams so that they may feast on the veritable banquet of storytelling that you have bequeathed unto us.

Thank you once again for taking the trouble to contact us, especially after such a trying ordeal. I hope you feel assured that your so-called “burning sword of truth” has been plunged into the very heart of the Ski Mousse empire.

May the spooge also be with you.

Yours sincerely

Paul Jones
Consumer Relations Executive
Consumer Services”

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DCR's good friend and contributor Father Bill Haymaker has sent in a letter we can all relate to.  Bill spent the best part of half an hour waiting for someone at Westin Gourmet to answer his telephone call.  All he wanted to do was order some genuine American steaks.  Being a patient man, he waited and he waited, and he got to wondering why those nice people at Westin Gourmet were too busy to answer the phone.....

Dear Customer Relations,

The clock on my computer has now indicated that it is 09:21, on the 15th of April. This means I have wracked up twenty-one minutes of a national call on my BT bill in trying to reach your Westin Gourmet Customer 'Service' number, in order to make a purchase of some quality steaks.

A recording on your customer 'service' line instructs me to 'hold', and I'll certainly be taken care of as soon as possible.

And as the clock passes the 09:23 mark, much to my surprise, the number for your corporate headquarters 0115 979 8418, presents a similar recorded message, stating that I should 'hold.  But as we gallop past the 09:26 point in time, the two phone lines I'm sitting on, patiently listening to, reflect nothing other than dead air.  No sound, whatsoever, no lift style music, no chirping birds, not even repetitive, mind-numbing solicitations,  emits from your customer 'service' number. And no sound emits from your 'administration number.  Just dead air!

As I patiently sit here, waiting, it leads me to consider some reasons why you may not be answering the phone:

1. You've arrived at work, shocked to discover the bailiff's have arrived and they've restricted you or your employee's access to the premises.

2. After a rousing weekend of merriment and sing-song of Wizard of Oz music, relating to the passing of Margaret Thatcher, your entire team are nursing severe hangovers, and a few bruises from the police.

3. The industrial park in Nottingham has suffered a tragic and  unexpected meteorite, along the lines of the recent one in Russia, where your windows have been blasted out and you and your staff are stone deaf and unable to hear the phones ring.

4. Or perhaps the most tragic possibility of all; you've established a witty and effective marketing strategy to entice a growing customer base, but somehow have failed to recognise the importance of backing up what you're marketing, and insuring that when you advertise that you're open, that you indeed are, that you possess the sufficient number of staff to support your call volume, and that each of you, from the first point of contact, all the way up to your good self, recognise your core objective and commitment to quality customer service.  Otherwise, why bother showing up?

I'm afraid that without effective tools to support your marketing strategy, all may become as sluggish as a blocked colon, due to a steady diet of hormone injected american beef!

In any event, I'm delighted to say that after 28 minutes, a paragon of loveliness, virtue, and company dedication, named Suzanne, was either able to scramble through all the collapsed building rubble, run a diversion route past the bailiff's, or escape the clutches of a few of those naughty, slippery-handed, middle-management lads, and get to the phone to answer my call.

Even the contemptible, nine circles of hell, abomination known as British Telecom, are able to answer the phone in less than a half-hour; even if the call is transferred to a shanty in the slums of Bangalore. So it leads me to wonder, why can't a small business in Nottingham beat that pathetic benchmark?

Kudos to Suzanne's dulcet tones and professionalism. I was next expecting to have the call disconnected altogether, or be transferred to someone in Jamaica selling PPI recovery services!

Imagine, all that just to purchase a couple of US Choice steaks! I normally don't waste so much time on anything less than US Prime!

Shame on you!

Father Bill Haymaker, CJ

To their credit, Westin Gourmet responded in good grace:

Hi Father Bill Haymaker, 

Sorry for the delay in answering your call, we have several members of the team ill today and this is obviously causing a backlog.  I appreciate your patience and do hope you enjoy your steaks. Your e-mail was an amusing way of identifying quite a real problem. We are a small business growing, so unfortunately when a few members of team are not here – it does cause issues.  Thanks for pointing this out.

Regards,

Darren Beale

Director
for Delicious Marketing Group

http://www.deliciousmarketinggroup.com/

www.WestinGourmet.co.uk

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A few weeks ago, I was making one my regular train trips to London when I suddenly realised that I was enjoying the journey.  Eventually, it occurred to me that this very unfamiliar feeling was the result of a broken PA system on the train.  Wouldn't it be great if all trains were this quiet, I thought. 

Out came the laptop.....

29th March 2013

East Coast Customer Relations
Freepost RSRJ-LJCX-GHST
Plymouth
PL4 6AB

Dear Customer Relations,

I really like East Coast. I think you are much better than the National Railway Museum because their collection of really old trains doesn't go anywhere whereas yours somtimes does.  Also, the National Railway Museum doesn’t do bacon toasties.

I was on one of your old trains this week. It was so old that it didn’t have any speakers for the train guard to make announcements (or perhaps it did but they were broken).  Anyway, it was ever so peaceful without all those noisy announcements.

It occurred to me that it would be a really good idea to remove all the speakers from all your trains.  Journeys would so be much nicer and you would make lots of extra money from making all the people who get on the wrong train with weekend-super-saver-off-peak-discount tickets buy a new one at full fare!

Then you will be able to buy even more really old trains!  How cool would that be!

Yours sincerely,

Anthony

Alas, East Coast aren't quite ready to stop pissing off their customers with a constant barrage of loud, largely pointless and utterly irritating announcements:

8th April 2013

Ref: EC130402BDGK

Dear Anthony,

Thank you for your letter received on 2nd April 2013.

I note with interest your suggestion about removing the speakers from all our trains to provide a quieter journey experience.  Regrettably, we are unable to put this into practice because this is our way of passing across information to customers.

We value all of the comments that we receive about our services and hold regular Service Review Meetings to consider them, so your comments will be passed on.

I am delighted to hear that you are so pleased with the service of our Historic Trains.  Everyone here at East Coast is working hard to improve the service we provide for our customers.  Our aim is to provide the best possible journey experience for east Coast customers and it is very pleasing to get feedback that shows we have had some success.

Thank you again for taking the time to write.  I will pass your commenst to everyone involved.  I am sure that will be as delighted as I am to hear that we are getting it right.

Yous Sincerely,

Christine Rawle

Customer Relations Advisor

East Coast

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DCR is grateful to Dennis Snape for sending us his letter to CrossCountry Trains. It appears that Dennis was not entirely satisfied with every aspect of his recent rail journey from Manchester.  Actually, Dennis wasn't satisfied with ANY aspect of his rail journey.  Dennis thought he was heading to Bristol but actually, he was going to Hell....

Dear Customer Relations,

Now stick with me on this one because its a cracker. On Thursday 5th April 2013 I arrived at Manchester Piccadilly Station (or Broadmoor as it's known locally). I was booked on one of your services to Bristol.  It was the 14:07.  Getting to the train was a challenge due to the useless Network Rail staff.  At one point, I even considered asking a pigeon where my train was.

Finally, after navigating through 6 walking abortions (youths I beleive they call them) I managed to get to Platform 4 although my train was at the bottom end so by the time I got there I'd already walked halfway to Stockport.  I was even going to stand at the top of the platform to see if anyone would sponser me for a charity walk down to the train.

I now understand why you call your company Crosscountry because when I boarded the train it resembled a small field.  The carpet looked like it had been cleaned with 7 angry pitbulls and then glossed over with Giraffe shit.

I only had a small suitcase but some kind person had decided to smuggle 14 Romanian immigrants in his luggage and stacked the 5 suitcases (which were the same size as a small village) at each end of the train  Thankfully, one of the train cleaners at Manchester helped me locate a safe place for my suitcase.  The train manager made some sort of annoucement, but your PA system was so poor it sounded like someone having a fight and an orgasm at the same time.  Eventually though,  the train departed and surely I thought my day could not get any worse.

But I was wrong.

I had someone opposite me talking on his phone so loud it sounded like a shit radio show, and there were 2 throwbacks behind me who kept kicking the back of my seat with the same force as a small meteorite. I bought a cup of coffee from the onboard shop and only had to re-mortgage my house to afford it.   However, when I drank the coffee I was far from impressed.   I can only imagine that it was the same cup used to change the train's oil filter earlier that day.  I also purchased a biscuit which slowly dissintergrated when I opened the wrapper.  No doubt the onboard staff had decided to play a 5 a side football match with it.

I then had the the pleasure of your onboard toilet, which was so badly flooded I thought it was a wet room.  May I suggest that you put life jackets on the wall just in case anyone drowns in there.  The toilet paper instantly evaporated as soon as it came into contact with anything solid - in this case my hands and the mirror was so badly damaged it looked like I'd had a minor stroke.  When I flushed the toilet it was so loud I thought a black hole had formed and was going to slowly suck the whole world into it.

I eventually walked back to my seat although the aisleway was so narrow that 4 people had there face's smashed in by my elbow.  Then I found that the reservation system had decided to work and my seat was now reserved.  I left my case in the carriage as I was now developing depression and I walked throughout the train trying to find a seat.  Could this seat  be reserved?  Reserved from somewhere that didn't even exist?  Iit had now turned into a crap gameshow but eventually i found a seat and once I had dislocated both my legs to fit into it, I had a wonderful view of a coffee splatterted plastic wall.  At one point, I even found myself counting the coffee spots.

Eventually I approached my destination,  popped my legs back into their sockets and went to fetch my case.  Getting to it developed into yet another challenge as someone thought it would be a fantastic idea to park a pram the size as a ford focus diagonally across the aisle way, but finally, I got my case and ended possibily the worse journey I've ever had.  May i suggest that if Scotland Yard ever want to torture terrorrist suspects, they simply threaten them with one of your train journeys.  They'll be sure to spill the beans.

So, thats all I've got to say and i wont be using your service again.  I'm even considering starting a petition to get the word TRAIN removed from the dictionary.

I look forward to your reply which I magine will be at least 3 years away.

Thank You.
Dennis Snape

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This is no ordinary steak and kidney pudding, this is an M&S steak and kidney pudding. Well actually, it isn't. This one has steak and kidney in it!

I do my best to eat a healthy balanced diet. 

Most of the time. 

Occasionally, I don't so much fall off the wagon as swallow dive off it. 

A few weeks ago, I was looking forward to an unrestrained orgy of nutritional self abuse when I found myself alone at home for the evening.  Unfortunately, all did not go entirely according to plan:

Dear Customer Relations,

My wife is gluten free. Actually, to be more accurate, my wife is gluten intolerant.  The food she eats is gluten free.  If my wife eats gluten, she gets terrible stomach and bowel pain for 48 hours afterwards.  My daughter is coeliac. If she eats gluten, she becomes very ill indeed - for up to six weeks! 

As you can imagine therefore, we go to great lengths to avoid the gluten which hides in everything from OXO cubes to soy sauce.  Of necessity, we have a very healthy diet of nothing but freshly prepared food. 

It's awful.

You see, I also have an eating disorder. 

I'm a greedy b@$£@*d! 

I love gluten. Pasta, pizza, crumpets, garlic bread, battered fish, spicy cous-cous, naan bread and, most of all, pies.  I love them all but they're all banned at our house.

I therefore live a life of severe nutritional deprivation.

So, once in a blue moon, when my wife and daughter are both eating out with girlfriends or away on a late night shopping expedition, I get that rarest of opportunities - to abandon my gastronomic strait-jacket and indulge instead in a shameless orgy of glutinous self abuse.

Now it just so happens that Monday 11th February was one such occasion. 

The ladies of my life were otherwise engaged and I was wandering around the M&S Leeds store fantasising about a seriously oversized steak pie with flaky pastry crust when my eyes fell upon a pack of your M&S 'Steak and Kidney Puddings'.  Not just one, but two of the little darlings nestling in every box.  This was perfect. Not only could I rectify my gluten deficiency at a stroke, but I could also rekindle childhood memories of my mother's home made steamed suet puddings.  I couldn't resist.

I added a box of 'Gastropub Thick Cut Chips' and a token bag of fresh green vegetables (because I can't shrug off my conditioning completely) and on the way home I picked up a couple of bottles of real ale to wash it all down.

Arriving home to a blissfully empty house, I resisted the temptation to slam my puddings in the microwave and instead followed the recommendation to steam them gently for 35 minutes.

I had a bit of a struggle getting everything on a single dinner plate but I told myself that I wasn't actually going to eat all of it.  I could leave half a pudding and a chip or two. I was genuinely excited.  So, with my overflowing plate, chilled beer and a recorded episode of 'Top Gear' on the television, I was about as close to heaven as a bloke eating a billy-no-mates dinner can get.

Then I cut into one of my M&S Steak and Kidney Puddings.  The suet crust was every bit as stodgy as I remembered.  Clearly, steaming had been the right thing to do. 

So far so good.

Then the pudding deflated.  Tyres and balloons deflate.  Your dinner isn't supposed to.

Not so good.

All the air had escaped.  Yes air because, for the most part, that is all the pudding contained.  Air.  Gas.  Stuff that is neither liquid nor solid and therefore doesn't need much chewing and has the same nutritional value as nothing at all.

"Where was my steak and kidney?" I asked myself.  I know that this had all started because I wanted gluten but I was actually expecting to get some serious animal protein to go with it.

Leaking from the collapsed and now alarmingly flat pudding was an anaemic coloured liquid.  Personally, I like my beef gravy to be an encouraging dark brown colour. Light beige just doesn't cut it.

This wasn't good at all.

I cut open the pudding to see if there was anything else in there.

The contents looked alarmingly like the little sachet of 'Whiskas Oh So Meaty with Gravy' cat food I had opened for my small, hairy friend only a few minutes before - except there was much more meat in the Whiskas sachet and the cat food was broadly the right colour.  As the cat is quite a lot smaller than me, it didn't seem fair that she got more meat that I did.

I tried the second pudding.  Same result. 

I must confess that at this point, I was every bit as deflated as my puddings.  My indulgent feast had turned into a forensic post mortem as I dissected the limp remains of my culinary fantasy.  I should have used a dictaphone and a camera like they do on in 'Silent Witness'.  At least that way you would know for certain that I am not making this up.

Be that as it may, I estimate that the largest piece of 'meat' in either pudding measured 7mm at its widest point.  Taken together, the solid contents of each pudding would have fitted on a standard desert spoon.  I did eventually manage to find the toenail clipping sized shreds of kidney and I can promise you that the amount of kidney in both puddings combined would have failed to cover a penny coin.

These meagre contents tasted of nothing very much at all and there was a disconcerting lack of the fibrous structure one normally associates with lean meat.  Instead, the lumps had the spongy texture of tasteless marshmallow.  Or lung perhaps.  What it wasn't was steak.  There was NO steak in either pudding.  None.

Sadly, it didn't occur to me to note batch numbers before the packaging disappeared into the recycling but I'm sure you can work this out from the date and location of purchase in any event.  I hope you won't tell me that this was a faulty batch that 'slipped through the net'.  That might be unwise when there are so many concerns about the integrity of processed food supply chains at the moment and disconcerting quanities of Shetland Pony keep 'slipping through the net' and turning up in all sorts of unusual places.

It would be refreshing if you were to admit to, and apologise for, selling a thoroughly disgusting, cheap and nasty product and undertake to replace it with something that deserves to carry an M&S label.  Something that not only tastes of steak and kidney, but actually contains some. 

If you need a recipe, I'm sure that my mother would be able to help. 

Sincerely,

Anthony

I did not have long to wait for the reply.  It obviously doesn't take very long to make no effort whatsoever when composing a reply to a disgruntled customer.  I was in the USA when the email arrived, hence the EST time against the date.  In fact, I had written my email to M&S on the plane over as a means of distracting myself from the hundreds of screaming children playing hide and seek in the aisles. 

From: Marks and Spencer Customer Service <no-reply@marksandspencer.com>
Date: 18 February 2013 06:52:26 EST
Subject: Your M&S

Dear Anthony,

Thanks for taking the time to contact us about the steak and kidney pudding.  I’m sorry you’re disappointed with the quality of them.

We have rigorous control agreements with all our food suppliers to ensure that our food quality is maintained to the highest possible standard. Despite the care we take, we’ve clearly not been successful on this occasion.

Please send us any available packaging from the product or the receipt so we can follow this up with our suppliers and send you a gift card to replace the steak and kidney puddings.

Our address is:

Retail Customer Services
Marks & Spencer
Chester Business Park
Wrexham Road
Chester
CH4 9GA

Alternatively, you can take the packaging or receipt into your local store where our staff will forward it to us. They will, of course, offer you a refund for the steak and kidney puddings.

Thanks again for getting in touch. If we can be of any further help, please don’t hesitate to contact us.

Please be aware this email is from a ‘no reply’ email address. If you would like to respond, please contact us via our website https://www.marksandspencer.com/contactus and we will be happy to assist you further.

We’re keen to know what you thought of our reply. If you’d like to share any feedback, please let us know by clicking on the following link: www.mandssurvey.co.uk/480

Kind Regards

Unsigned.

 There was a distinct lack of any undertaking to make better steak and puddings from my anonymous correspondent and the word sorry was only used once which was clearly nowhere near enough.  I had to serve another volley:

Dear Faceless Customer Relations Operative,

Thank you for your anonymous reply to my email on the subject of Marks and Spencers Steak and Kidney Puddings.  I give it one out of ten - for managing to send it to the right email address.

It might have received a higher mark if you had actually bothered to read my email first.  It is always helpful when the reply reflects, in some small way, the content of the original communication.  For instance, there is no point in asking me to send you the packaging when I had in fact already told you that it had been recycled.

I almost gave you an extra mark for using the word "sorry" once in your email but alas, it had all the sincerity of Hannibal Lechter saying he was becoming a vegetarian so you missed out there too.  You might have earned several marks if you had replied in the same spirit of my original note.  A little narrative background and the occasional tongue-in-cheek remark would have been greatly appreciated.

However, most disappointing of all however is the fact that you gave me the impression that you are going to do nothing whatsoever about your disgusting steak and kidney puddings. 

Perhaps I should get in contact with Steve Rowe (M&S Executive Director - Food).  Strictly speaking, the buck stops with Steve.  Effectively, they were Steve's steak and kidney puddings.  He's only been in the job since October so he should still be really keen.

I also hear that Steve is a cigar smoker so I think we would get along really well.  I bet he would read my email before replying.

In the meantime, please let me know what is going to happen about the dreadful steak and kidney puddings.  You know when I bought them and from which store so you have all the information you need to DO SOMETHING.

Yours,

Anthony

Alas, my efforts were in vain.  M&S still wanted me to retrieve the packaging from the recycling plant:

From: Marks and Spencer Customer Service <no-reply@marksandspencer.com>
Date: Tue 26/02/2013 15:43

Subject: Your M&S

Dear Anthony 

Thanks for taking the time to contact us again about the steak and kidney puddings. I'm sorry you're unhappy with my response.

 In order to follow this up with the correct suppliers we need the packaging return to us or to your local store. Without specific information, we're unable to feed this back to them.

 I'm afraid we're unable to advise you what action our suppliers are going to take regarding the steak and kidney puddings as this will be looked in to internally.

 Thanks again for getting in touch. If we can be of any further help, please don’t hesitate to contact us.

 Please be aware this email is from a ‘no reply’ email address. If you would like to respond, please contact us via our website https://www.marksandspencer.com/contactus and we will be happy to assist you further.

 We’re keen to know what you thought of our reply. If you’d like to share any feedback, please let us know by clicking on the following link: www.mandssurvey.co.uk/480

 Kind Regards

 Tanya Thackeray

Marks & Spencer Customer Services

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Every so often, we feature funny replies rather than complaints - such as the recently featured spoof reply from HMRC written by comendian Chris Addison.  Recently, a couple of examples on the subject of gold have been circulating on the web.  If anyone knows the original authors, please let us know.  The first of these is (allegedly) from WeBuyGold.com to a gentleman by the name of Mr. Silentbill:

Dear Mr. Silentbill,

We are sorry to inform you that the 1 ounce Krugerrand gold coins that you sent us are in fact chocolate coins in gold foil and would not warrantthe £30,000 you requested.

Our records shows that this is not the first time that you have sent us items which were unsuitable for appraisal.  As explained in a previous letter, we coud not accept 'Gold - The Best of Spandau Ballet' CD, regardless of you stating that track 1 was the song you lost your virginity to.

Just to clarify that when we offer to buy gold, we specify that it is of the precious metal variety.  Seeing as you have failed to grasp this concept then please find the definition of gold below:

"Gold is a chemical element with the symbol Au (from Latin: Aurum "gold") and an atomic number of 79.  Gold metal is dense, soft, shiny and the most malleable and ductile pure metal known.  Pure gold has a bright yellow color and luster traditionally considered attractive, which it maintains without oxidizing in air or water.  Gold is one of the coinage metals and has served as a symbol of wealth and a store of value throughout history.  Gold standards have provided a basis for monetary policies".

We hope this clarifies the matter and we please ask that you do not send any more items unless they are of the gold variety described above.

Yours sincerely,

The second example is on the same lines.  This one (allegedly) comes from another of the online gold buyers - Cash4Gold.com from Pompano Beach Florida (which is a place I know very well as it happens).  This time, it is a consignment of gold nuggets rather than gold coins that is being called into question:

Dear Mr. Haberny,

After sending back your zip lock bag of gold painted rocks that you considered "14 karat gold nuggets found on a soul searching pilgrimage in Tibet with a quadriplegic hooker you picked up in Singapore", we find it difficult that you cannot understand the concept of "Do Not Contact Us Again".

Your fraudulent attempt to extort money from our seasoned geologists (who are experts in identifying precious metals) has forced us to take extreme action; this is your final warning before we contact the authorities.  Your "rocks" have shown up in our inventory three times now.  We will no longer attempt to return them, but will keep them as evidence.  You are not entitled to any money, especially the ludicrous amount of $1,423,061.92 you demanded for your Cash for Gold payment.  Your petition for an "ungreased Hammertime lovemaking session" with our telemarketers Carol and Tracy is feral and preposterous.  Your absurd request to be reimbursed for postage ($167.45, $138.33 & $142.73) is unwarranted and completely illicit.  As a remnder, Mr. Haberny, Ed McMahon passed away June 23, 2009.  It is not only disrespectful but also utterly moronic to request the he host your birthday party at McDonalds.

This is the last time that we will be in contact with you.

Sincerely,

Jeff Aronson.

This latest letter was contributed by Father Bill Haymaker.  Father Bill is from East Sussex and he does wonderful work supporting the victims of child trafficking in Eastern Europe.  Take some time out to check out his work at www.ProjectNewLife.org.

Bill's letter was sent to The Glorious Foods Company, a well known manufacturer of soups that are rather more expensive than your average soup.  It seems that his carton of New York Chicken Noodle Soup not only failed to deliver oodles of noodles but also failed to constitute any threat to the UK chicken population....

Message:  26 Jan, 2013

To the Glorious Foods Company

Re: Glorious “New York Chicken Noodle Soup”

Code: 14FEB (F6) 09:36

 Dear Friends

I doubt under general conditions that I would bother writing you, but because I feel so utterly lousy right this moment, I know my senses are heightened. So, in advance, I apologise unreservedly for my crankiness and horrible attitude. But when I'm in intense pain, I take it out on my keyboard....and keys are flying off the board today. 

Following an event with my dentist that could only be visualised by Quentin Tarantino, I was in utter agony and desperate to get home and load myself up with copious quantities of drugs (mostly legal).

Heading home, I was eager to find something to ease the searing pain in my mouth, calm my stomach and salve my brain. My first inclination was to get some chicken broth and egg noodles and make a calming 'Jewish Penicillin" (in the New York tradition), soup. 

At my local Sainsbury’s, I happened across what I thought was manna from Heaven, a panacea in the midst of my agony, a rejoinder of pity from Yahweh, or the BVM herself!  There it was - illuminated- as if it were drawing me to it, a container of 'New York Chicken Noodle Soup.'

There could have been nothing better to sooth the savage beast within me to help nurture my suffering... Every Jewish Mother's answer to everything under the sun - from pimples, to Mrs Broskowizc's unmarried daughter, to a broken leg, to sitting Shiva!  And it was the prescription for anyone suffering from the death of a cold to a failed relationship - Chicken Noodle Soup. 

I needn't look any further. I grabbed the container, already imagining being at home, tucked into my bed with the covers pulled up, some pathetically droll show on BBC2 - Crustaceans Through History, and my bed tray containing my golden chicken broth, my warm noodles which I could just get by gumming on the other side of my mouth, and rich, torn strands of white and dark meat chicken. 

You can't imagine my utter shock when I finally got the vice grips to tear off the errant sealing seal and discovered the contents: no rich golden broth, no soothing noodles - just “Two.Point.Five” percent of barely noticeable thin strands of nothing, presented as 'noodles' that I could taste., and most surprising of all - NO chicken- not a scintilla! Sadly, in this recipe, all the chicken you could possibly use will never turn this abomination into 'New York' chicken noodle soup! 

New Yorker's are the epitome of 'read the label.'  I challenge you to show me a 'New Yorker' who would pass this stuff off as 'New York Chicken Noodle.'  Due to the diversity of New York, there are cultural mores which are simply a given and a New Yorker’s chicken soup is one of them.  New York Chicken Soup is sacrosanct!  It conjures up images of your auntie Edna in her kitchen, so large that she has never left the kitchen in 20 years – her life is cooking!  And she lives over a pot of chicken stock that’s on the hob 24/7!  And some of my Jewish friends have told me that to have ‘New York’ chicken noodle soup is to become an instant convert!  The noodles quickly manifest into matzo balls, but everything else is the same. 

I do have an idea for you, however: purchase a weekend return ticket to New York. Go to ANY deli in Manhattan, go to Dallas Barbeque on E 72nd, go to the Plaza Hotel, go to the Marriott at Times Square, go to Sylvia's in Harlem on Lenox – Go to the New York Diner - just go anywhere and let a New Yorker show you what 'New York Chicken Noodle' soup is! Please! Soon! 

To add insult to injury - this stuff tastes atrocious! Why leave us (The English) with the misconception that not only is New York Chicken Noodle Soup ghastly, but the recipe itself is hideous as well!

Shame on you! Shame on you! 

Perhaps you can enrol in your own competition for a weekend trip to New York, to see what Chicken Noodle Soup tastes like... you don't even need to go in to Manhattan!  Stay at Kennedy Airport and go to the local supermarket and buy a tin of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup.  At least, at least, they have the recipe right!  Or from the airport Marriott you can have a hearty bowl of ‘New York’ chicken noodle soup delivered to you via Room Service.  And finally, forget the airline ticket (was I getting you excited?), just go to the Marriott on the Bath Road at Heathrow and ask for a bowl of Chicken Noodle soup. It’s available 24/7 from Room Service, or in their restaurant ‘Allie’s American Grille.’ 

Now, it's time for my next morphine tablet. Just no flippin soup! 

If you'd like to see a photo of Chicken Noodle Soup à la New York, I'd be pleased to share some with you. I think I've taken photos of the past three Chicken Noodle Soups for the AllRecipes.com website.

I'm British and even I, a typical British male who knows sod-all about cooking, know how to make chicken noodle soup! Shame on you! 

I've just discovered my dog even hates it! The Venerable Mr Piddles has refused to touch it. Considering some of the things he's been guilty of eating in the past, this makes a rather strong statement!

I’ve left it to him to send his own comments. He’s far more balanced than I am at the moment as he has had no dental surgery! 

In summary, slapping a label on this tripe and calling it ‘New York Chicken Noodle Soup’ is about as effectual as slapping a label that says ‘Prime Minister’ on Gordon Brown.

Father Bill Haymaker+

www.DogDogma.Blogspot.com

PS.

Just an addendum to this glorious day of wasting time complaining about soup – twice now I’ve attempted to post my epistle to your ‘Happy Face’ collection of options. Right about this moment I’m wishing you had a punched in face option. It simply refuses to go beyond the ‘submit’ button. With a degree of trepidation I suspect it has to do with the length of my epistle. Unfortunately, as you’ve failed to tell customers that your contact box refuses to allow any messages over a thousand characters, or possibly messages that contain disparaging comments about soup you portray to be from New York! Mr Piddles suggested to me that it may have to do with the suggestions I had as to what you could do with this soup, but as I say, he’s far more balanced today. 

So I had the pleasure of speaking (twice) to a voice male (not to be confused with mail), who transferred me to a voice mail named ‘Dave,’ Provided Dave can get this little miracle of modern technology to work, I’ll spare him from suffering having to speak with me today about our little contretemps – it’s probably in his best interest anyway. 

For your own joy, I respectfully submit (one of countless) url’s for ‘New York’ Chicken Noodle Soup, as well as a photo of my own made-at-home ‘English Chicken Noodle Soup. They look suspiciously similar because they are! They’re New York Chicken Noodle soups!

http://www.tinynewyorkkitchen.com/chicken-noodle-soup/

Glorious Foods replied very promptly.  It seems that Father Bill's preferences were not in line with the Glorious Foods New York Chicken Noodle Soup flavour profile but no matter, Bill's concerns were being "communicated to the highest level" within the company.  So that's OK then.

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<script

Nevertheless, it is still utterly brilliant!

Dear Mr Addison,

I am writing to you to express our thanks for your more than prompt reply to our latest communication, and also to answer some of the points you raise.

I will address them, as ever, in order.

Firstly, I must take issue with your description of our last as a “begging letter”. It might perhaps more properly be referred to as a “tax demand”. This is how we, at the Inland Revenue have always, for reasons of accuracy; traditionally referred to such documents.

Secondly, your frustration at our adding to the “endless stream of crapulent whining and panhandling vomited daily through the letterbox on to the doormat” has been noted. However, whilst I have naturally not seen the other letters to which you refer I would cautiously suggest that their being from “pauper councils, Lombardy pirate banking houses and pissant gas-mongerers” might indicate that your decision to “file them next to the toilet in case of emergencies" is at best a little ill-advised.

In common with my own organisation, it is unlikely that the senders of these letters do see you as a “lackwit bumpkin" or, come to that, a “sodding charity”. More likely they see you as a citizen of Great Britain, with a responsibility to contribute to the upkeep of the nation as a whole.

Which brings me to my next point.

Whilst there may be some spirit of truth in your assertion that the taxes you pay “go to shore up the canker-blighted, toppling folly that is the Public Services”, a moment’s rudimentary calculation ought to disabuse you of the notion that the government in any way expects you to “stump up for the whole damned party” yourself. The estimates you provide for the Chancellor’s disbursement of the funds levied by taxation, whilst colourful, are, in fairness, a little off the mark. Less than you seem to imagine is spent on “junkets for Bunterish lickspittles” and “dancing whores” whilst far more than you have accounted for is allocated to, for example, “that box-ticking facade of a university system.”

A couple of technical points arising from direct queries:
1. The reason we don’t simply write “Muggins” on the envelope has to do with the vagaries of the postal system;
2. You can rest assured that “sucking the very marrows of those with nothing else to give” has never been considered as a practice because even if the Personal Allowance didn’t render it irrelevant, the sheer medical logistics involved would make it financially unviable.

I trust this has helped. In the meantime, whilst I would not in any way wish to influence your decision one way or the other, I ought to point out that even if you did choose to “give the whole foul jamboree up and go and live in India” you would still owe us the money.

Please forward it by Friday.

Yours Sincerely,
H J Lee

Customer Relations

PS  Thanks to the Guardian Money Desk for their kind consent to reproduce this letter. 

I came across this letter to the Vegetarian Society during one my regular trawls of the internet looking for funny complaints and silly letters.   Its author, Hayden Edwards, sends rather silly letters to unsuspecting retailers and service providers.  Hayden's Blog, 'To Whom It May Concern..' (see sidebar for link) contains many very funny examples including a complaint to Sainsburys because the trout she bought at the fish counter wouldn't swim in the garden pond! 

Dear Vegetarian Society,

It has been 15 years, a few days and a couple of accidently deleted answering machine messages since my elderly neighbour Jean turned to me in IKEA's childrens ball pool and said "You should be a vegetarian".

She always has words of wisdom and she was so right.  From that day on, I proudly called my self a Vegetarian. I even managed to resist buying those beautiful hotdogs on the way out of IKEA. Jean didn't, she managed to gobble down 8 at the bus stop before she was sick.

Over the last decade and a half as a vegetarian, I have enjoyed spreading the word and have even succesfully managed to convert an alcoholic and a nun to the good cause. I have written to Quorn, bought a goat from a farmer to save it (unfortunately it did pass away 2 weeks later after it got stuck in the cinema) and am writing a book of recipes I have invented for others to enjoy.

However, since yesterday my faith has been badly damaged and I don't know what to do.

It all started when Jean and I decided to take a cycle to the beach as the weather was beautiful. Jean was showing off as usual and rushing ahead when I spotted a tractor in the distance which appeared to have no driver, I shouted and shouted to Jean to warn her but as I did so, something, perhaps a fly or a baby owl flew into my mouth and I swallowed it whole!

All my hard work as a vegetarian had been ruined.

I am writing to ask for forgiveness and guidance as I'm frightened I may have actually enjoyed the taste and may be tempted to cycle around with my mouth open in the future.

I hope you can understand urgency of my letter and that your response will be a rapid one.

Yours Sincerely

Hayden Edwards

Full marks to Bronwen Humphreys at the Vegetarian Society for sending a reply:

Dear Hayden

As it seems unlikely a baby owl would be out in broad daylight, I think it is possible you may have swallowed a fly or some similar winged insect. As it was an accident, no-one would blame you.

I’m sure most of us have experienced little slip-ups in a lifetime of vegetarianism and it would be a shame to say that one incident ruined all the positive aspects of being a long-term vegetarian. You should just try and put it behind you.

Best wishes

Bronwen

Bronwen Humphreys

Local Network Co-ordinator

You can follow Hayden on Twitter: @HaydensWords  

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