McDonalds

Dear Sirs,

I am writing to complain about the abysmal level of customer service at your drive-through restaurant in Kingston, Milton Keynes. Despite your history of environmental devastation, worker exploitation, child-baiting and animal abuse, I must admit that you do offer one thing that others do not: convenience. Sometimes, when no better option presents itself, I find myself with no choice but to force down one of your greasy McBurgers or a handful of lukewarm fries.

On one such occasion last week, however, I made the mistake of stopping off at McDonalds Kingston and using the ‘drive-thru’ ordering system. My suspicions should have been aroused by the bizarre spelling of the word ‘through’ – presumably this is an example of a multinational corporation piggybacking on the trend for blatant illiteracy amongst today's youth, most of whom are simply too lazy to refrain from unnecessary elision. Unfortunately, on this occasion I was extremely tired and had two unruly brats in the back of my car; not my own, thankfully, but my two godchildren, Honoria and Augustus. Although my good lady-wife, Agatha, dotes on the little blisters, I myself find myself at odds in their company and tend to fall back into glorious daydreams where I am throttling one of the little sods whilst kicking the other into some sort of ravine. On this excruciating excursion I had been forced to drive to some ghastly attraction in Staffordshire, which I had been unfairly tricked into thinking was a museum about Ernest Alton, the late Irish educator and politician. After a full day of what can only be described as financial rape and varying levels of nausea, I was allowed to crawl into the car and drive back home amidst the screams of the unholy spawn in the back. Despite warning Agatha numerous times about the effects of candy floss and carbonated beverages on children, she had stuffed them so full of sugar that no amount of threats or pleading would shut them up. In the end, close to tears, I had to resort to bribery; a McDonalds if they promised to cease their infernal yelling.

And thus we ended up at your godless ‘restaurant’ in Kingston. Exhausted, bedraggled and ready to stab, strangle or otherwise maim all children under the age of twelve, I drove to the ‘Drive-thru’ to pick up some cholesterol-laden meat products and a bagful of toxically over-salted fries. When our tepid food was finally shoved through my window, I parked in a lay-by to devour my portion of Chicken McNuggets and chips. After a day of surviving on Werther’s Originals and water from the log flume strained through my moustache, I was ravenous even for limp, dehydrated potato fries and pulped breaded chicken. Imagine my dismay, however, when I discovered that your staff had neglected to give me any sauce whatsoever. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to eat McDonalds fries without sauce, sirs, but it is a gruelling and tasteless ordeal.

The employees at the Kingston branch could not possibly have been unaware of this, and yet they chose to ignore my requests and sent me on my way, £16.47 lighter in pocket but with a meal that was inedible. For shame, sirs! Is this the latest measure in the battle to cut costs and please shareholders? Depriving the hapless consumer of the sauce that makes the rest of the meal palatable, nay, edible? I presume it comes from the same school of thought that prevents employees from giving out napkins with meals. While other fast food restaurants give out lemon-scented wet wipes, each packaged in its own sanitary little pouch, McDonalds doesn't even provide its loyal customers with a tissue to soak up the copious amounts of grease oozing from its products. By the time Honoria and Augustus had finished with their meal, the leather upholstery in the back of my car was swimming in shining oil and I was about ready to drown them in it.

I understand that this may be a minor blip in your customer service, so I am giving you the opportunity to repair the untold damage you have caused (both to myself and my car). Please rectify the issue immediately, otherwise I will be forced to take these diabolic bastard godchildren of mine to Pizza Hut next time they start getting on my pip.

Yours greasily,

Derek Haselhurst-Horton

MP for Stoke-on-Trent

Dear Sir,

I am writing to commend you on Stoke-on-Trent’s latest accolade as 9th Worst Place to Live in the UK (2011). Although I have not personally visited all the other cities that were recognised as even worse than Stoke-on-Trent, I must offer you my warmest congratulations on missing the top spot by a whole eight places. Considering what a squalid mess the town was in May this year when I was unfortunate enough to visit, I can only presume that some radical clear-up must have occurred between now and then as I don’t believe it possible for it to have otherwise been beaten by eight other cities.

I have read that there is some sort of initiative to regenerate Stoke. Initially I assumed this would involve a small, localised nuclear weapon and plans to sterilise approximately 95% of the population, but was perplexed when I discovered it instead involved bolstering employment and developing enterprise zones. As I’m sure you are aware, the majority of people in Stoke are neither seeking employment nor enterprising in demeanour. The incumbent population is too idle and mentally deficient to even engage in the more rewarding areas of crime (such as fraud and money laundering), instead turning to mindless thuggery and criminal damage, which is twice as high in Stoke as the national average.

I do not mean to sound like southern bigot, sir, and I’m sure you envision yourself as a missionary of sorts, trying to bring prosperity and opportunity to the hapless folk of Stoke-on-Trent. Unfortunately, you are labouring misguidedly; would you endeavour to enrich the lives of cattle or potatoes? Of course not; it's a fool’s errand. Despite your woolly-headed left-wing tendencies and innate longing to ‘see the good in everyone’, I can’t believe that you haven’t noticed that your constituents are lazy, incomprehensible, ugly and inconsiderate. I have read in the news recently about a child who started a smear campaign online against her teacher using the Facebook and was punished by being excluded from her school trip. Although this seems like a disproportionately light punishment for causing such distress and humiliation to one of our fine educators, the brat’s parents fought tooth and nail to have her punishment revoked. If the Facebook had existed when I was a boy and I had pulled such a stunt, rest assured that my father would have beaten me to within an inch of my life with the buckle-end of his belt, and rightly so. What kind of town produces parents that are so imbecilic and indulgent they would let their revolting spawn behave so atrociously? One that should have introduced stringent reproductive laws long ago, that’s what.

I apologise sir, what began as a warm message of goodwill has turned into a long rant against your life’s work. Regardless of how I feel about your illiterate and loathsome youth, rest assured that my congratulations remain notwithstanding.

Yours sincerely,

Derek Haselhurst-Horton

London Midland

Dear Sirs,

Firstly I would like to express my intense fury at the latest instalment in a long series of deplorable price hikes in fares. To increase the fixed costs of commuters’ travel when wages are barely even rising with inflation is both insensitive and cruel, especially when other costs of living are too increasingly at alarmingly high rates. I am retired, and I consider myself extremely fortunate that I do not work in London and live at the mercy of your laughably poorly-run organisation. The most diabolical part of your price hikes, though, is that the service is still as odiously dreadful as ever. Where is the value for the train-user? Trains are poorly staffed, dirty, unreliable and filled with screaming children and scum whose antisocial behaviour isn’t kept in check by overstretched employees. I somehow doubt that these problems will be eradicated even with a 8% increase in revenue.

My good lady-wife Agatha and I don’t commute, but we did travel to London by train last week to see the Titanic exhibition at the architectural monstrosity that is the ‘O2 arena’. Although the off-peak price was not unreasonable, the conditions of the train were worse than those of a concentration camp. The seats were filthy and every carriage reeked of human defecation and despair. We came home late and discovered to our dismay that all three of the lavatories were out of use. I am an old man and cannot be expected to wait fifty minutes to empty a brimming bladder, so I asked an attendant to unlock one so I could use the facilities. It soon transpired, however, that the lavatory was closed with good reason as the bowl was overflowing with tepid pisswater and nuggets of human excrement. Clasping a handkerchief to my face like a gasmask and clutching Agatha’s travel-size bottle of doorknob sanitiser, I ventured into the water-closet with an air of trepidation. Like a fireman running into a burning building filled with noxious gas, I was acutely aware that if I did not make sufficient haste the fumes would overcome me and I would quickly succumb to unconsciousness. Fortunately, on this occasion I was lucky and escaped with nothing more than scandalised nostrils and wet shoes. I was able to save them, however, with some cobbler’s shoe cream (£3.25), which I fully expect to be reimbursed for.

The one concession in the whole nightmarish experience was your staff; there was one lady in particular called Mary who was charming, courteous and an all-round shining example of how ticket inspectors should be. In comparison to the rest of your service, she was a gleaming beacon of loveliness, and if anything good is to come from these heinous and rapacious price hikes, I hope Mary is given a raise and a Cadillac as a reward for her excellent customer service.

I look forward to receiving your compensatory cheque for my urine-sodden shoes.

Yours disgruntledly,

Derek Haselhurst-Horton

Tesco II

In response to this charming letter Pat sent me in reply to this letter of complaint, I sent the following:

Dear Pat,

Firstly, I hope you have had a lovely bank holiday weekend. You will be pleased to hear that Agatha's gout has cleared up significantly since I last wrote, so we spent the weekend in the local woodland indulging in a spot of bird-watching. Unfortunately, the idyllic pleasures of the weekend were marred slightly by our stumbling across a young couple necking in the forest. Initially we thought we had heard the distinctive cry of a Red-backed Shrike, which I'm sure you're aware is an extremely rare and endangered species. Our excitement soon turned to dismay when we realised it was the sound of a disgustingly public display of hokey-pokey, but I am proud to report we did our duty as public citizens and thwarted the pair's licentious enterprise. Agatha, who plays the position of Goal Attack in the local over-65s netball team, placed the lubricious duo under citizens' arrest while I ran for the local constabulary. The miscreants were apprehended and Agatha and I resumed our bird-watching trip without further incident, although sadly without spotting a Red-backed Shrike.

To business: may I convey to you my appreciation for your timely reply. Despite Tesco's reputation for employing mindless automatons, you have proved to me that in fact corporations such as yours need not be completely faceless. For that, dear Pat, I applaud you. I would also like to extend my many thanks for your heartfelt and sincere apologies for the inadequately seasoned garlic bread I bought last week. I appreciate its deficiency was not anything to do with you, but I would like accept your gracious offer for a compensatory £5 moneycard. Agatha and I would be delighted to resample your garlic bread and, hopefully, this time we will not be disappointed.

Please find my address attached.

Yours appeasedly,

Derek Haselhurst-Horton

Tesco Reply

In response to this letter, Pat at Tesco customer services sent me the following apology and extended the olive branch with a £5 voucher:

Dear Mr Haselhurst-Horton

Thank you for your email. I’d like to apologise for the delay in replying. Normally, we can get back in touch with you within 24 hours and I’m sorry that we haven’t managed to do this for you on this occasion.

I'm very sorry to hear that you and your wife had your Pizza meal spoilt due to the lack of butter and garlic in your garlic bread. I can understand how annoying and disappointing this must have been for you both. We set very high standards for our suppliers and this helps to make sure that every product has the correct balance of ingredients. However, due to the speed of production, our Quality Assurance staff may occasionally overlook a product that doesn't meet these standards.

To say sorry for you meal being spoilt, I'd like to send you a £5.00 Tesco Moneycard which you could perhaps put towards another Pizza and maybe the Garlic Bread again which should be up to your expectations on the next occasion. I like to eat this as well so know that it should be nice and garlicky. If you could get back to me with your postal address, I'll be happy to arrange for this to be sent out to you.

It's good to hear that apart from some shortcomings in our stores, that you are generally very happy with the service we give you and particularly our Clubcard scheme. It's our way of saying thank you for your loyalty for shopping with us so I'm glad that you're both enjoying going to Pizza Express when you can. I'm sorry to hear that sometimes your wife's gout prevents this.

I hope that you'll be able to enjoy another night in with the Pizza and Garlic Bread. It sounds like a really good night especially if you can watch Midsummer Murders at the same time. Of course you can use the Moneycard to purchase other items in the store which you may like as well.

Thanks again for contacting us and please pass my apologies on to your wife as well for the disappointment caused.

I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Kind Regards

Pat C
Tesco Customer Service

House of Fraser

Dear Sir/Madam,

I don't know if you're aware that a recession is still raging through the country, but everyone, including your middle-class target demographic, has been cutting back and denying themselves the pleasures they once took for granted. I, for instance, used to be a leading British plasticine sculptor, but the rising costs of both plasticine and additional materials such as petroleum jelly have forced me to cut back and not indulge myself as often as I did. We are in the midst of hard times, sirs, hard times.

Regardless of the sad stifling of my potent creative juices, I have taken offence to your cruel mocking of the British public's terrible plight. My good lady-wife Agatha decided to treat herself to a new lipstick after recovering from a severe case of gout and, because we are trying to be more economical, perused the sale section of your website. When she saw your BellaPierre lipstick was on offer she was delighted...until she saw the generous reduction you had set upon it: a penny. A penny, sirs! This discount actually equates to 0.007%. As a long-term House of Fraser customer, I am appalled at your insensitivity. You should be ashamed of yourselves.

Yours disgustedly,

Derek Haselhurst-Horton

Tesco

Dear Sirs,

I would like to begin by stating that although your chain has many shortcomings – detestable in-store baked goods and an irksome habit of changing stores’ layouts every six months, for instance – it also has many sterling qualities that make it my supermarket of choice (aside from Waitrose, obviously). Your Clubcard scheme is particularly commendable; it frankly leaves the loyalty schemes of other retailers looking extremely sub-par. I shopped in Sainsburys for three years before Tesco moved in and earned precisely £15.33, which I spent on a Jeffrey Archer novel and a cheap bottle of wine. With Clubcard Rewards, however, my good lady-wife Agatha and I have enjoyed many sterling meals out with minimal expense. Our current favourite is Pizza Express; although we are usually opposed to continental food on the grounds that it is filthy foreign muck, we have developed quite a fondness for the cuisine of the Italian people. Although I hear their attitude to driving is quite deplorable, their pizza is quite delectable.

As my good lady-wife Agatha and I have discovered such enthusiasm for the culinary delights of Pizza Express, we made plans to go out for dinner there last night. Unfortunately, Agatha is suffering from a particularly severe case of gout, and we eventually elected to stay in and watch one of our old Midsomer Murders video tapes instead. To ease her disappointment, and also to get out of the house as Agatha is prone to sudden bouts of savage rage when her gout plays up, I went to my local Tesco to purchase some of the Pizza Express home-cook pizza and some garlic bread. You’ll be pleased to hear that the pizza was delicious; almost as good as it is in the restaurant. The garlic bread, however, was a crushing disappointment.

The Tesco brand garlic bread was drier than a cork leg and, as far as I could tell, completely devoid of any butter or, indeed, garlic. I myself am partial to the distinctive flavour of allium neapolitanum, and I believe I am personally capable of excreting more garlicky artefacts the morning after indulging in a late-night chicken Kiev sandwich. The ludicrous absence of anything even remotely resembling garlic in the product was not only wildly distressing, but also potentially very dangerous to those looking to consume it for medicinal reasons.

I do hope you rectify this problem as soon as possible; it is simply unacceptable and I will not be purchasing it again.

Yours hungrily,

Derek Haselhurst-Horton