Best Rants or Quotes

[Steviebhoy]

What the best you have seen or heard??

an email sent to the police


1.. THE COMPLAINT

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 emailing you instead. Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass this on to your colleagues in Leith by means of smoke signal, carrier pigeon or ouija 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 its 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 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. Unfortunately 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 email 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 other 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 X

2.. THE REPLY

Dear Mr X,

I have read your email and understand your frustration at the problems caused by youth playing in the area and the problems you 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 Y Community Beat Officer

3.. THE REACTION

Dear PC Y

First of all I would like to thank you for the speedy response to my original email. 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 its own communitybeat 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 achin 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 t***s 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 you should feel free to contact me. If after 25 minutes I have still failed to answer, I'll buy you a large one in the Compass Bar.

Regards Mr X

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

 

[Steviebhoy]

COMPLAINT LETTER TO NTL

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, resulting in my spending an entire Saturday sitting on my fat arse waiting for your technician to arrive. When he did not arrive, 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 by playing with my testicles 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 15 telephone calls over 4 weeks my modem arrived... six weeks after I had requested it, and begun to pay for it.

I estimate your internet server's downtime is roughly 35%... hours between about 6pm -midnight, Mon-Fri, and most of the weekend. I am still waiting for my telephone connection. I have made 9 calls on my mobile to your no-help line, 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 (and then been redirected to an answer machine informing me that your office is closed); that I will be transferred to someone 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 frustration's in print than to shout them at your unending hold music. Forgive me, therefore, if I continue.

I thought BT were ****, 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 *******s you truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of distended rectum incompetents of the highest order.

British Telecom - ******s 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 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 quickly be replaced by derision, and even perhaps 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 its worthless employees.

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

John

 

[Sponge1980]

This is apparently a radio transcript between a US Warship and a lighthouse, probably not real but I think its funny.

US SHIP: Please divert your course 0.5 degrees to the South to avoid a collision.

CANADIAN REPLY: Recommend you divert YOUR course 15 degrees to the South to avoid a collision.

US SHIP: This is the Captain of the US Navy Ship. I say again, divert YOUR course.

CANADIAN REPLY: No, I say again, divert YOUR course!

US SHIP: THIS IS THE USS MISSOURI. WE ARE A LARGE BATTLESHIP OF THE US NAVY. DIVERT YOUR COURSE NOW OR WE WILL TAKE APPROPRIATE AND DRASTIC MEASURES!!!!

CANADIAN REPLY: This is a lighthouse. Your call.

 

[AuburnWarrior]

Very funny but I fear the mods will kick into gear.... :thup:

 

[Foxholer]

My best example of inanity was the 'Help Desk' guy who put a 'Logon Message' (displayed after you successfully log on) that the system was now available! :angry:

 

[DappaDonDave]

Today we had a query from a solicitor. They started working for us in April 2011, and wonder if they could get CONTINUOUS service for a job they left in 1998 to become self employed...

Yes...it was a fully qualified and time served solicitor asking this question

 

[USER1999]

We had an electrician call us up, who wanted to know if we made a passive infra red sensor (pir) with no out put terminals. He wanted input terminals, but no out put ones.

With no output terminals, it can't switch anything on, so what would be the point?

 

[Liverbirdie]

This is a personal favourite, although the police and NTL where brilliant, also.

Roadworks.

Dear Sir/Madam
I am rarely compelled to air my grievances in public, however I wish to congratulate the Wiltshire Council member who regurgitated from the stagnant plankton soup that is their intellect, on the rationale that undertaking ‘essential’ repair work on the junction of Herd St, London Rd and The Parade during the hours of 7pm until 6am during (for most people) the evenings of the working week, is indeed, worthy of such comment.

I realise that it’s my fault that I didn’t try hard enough in school and as a result I am forced to live on a main road, as well as it also being my error in having my children safely ensconced in their bedroom and confidently saying to them ‘see you in the morning, sleep tight’ that they then look at me incredulously as they are repeatedly awoken by a day-glo clad pneumatic drill operator hammering away at 2.30am with the misplaced verve of a Polish Airman escaping Stalag Luft III so he can rejoin his comrades in the struggle against socialist tyranny.

Also, is it really necessary to instruct the aforementioned day-glo clad sun dodgers to power up, illuminate and shed enough sodium orange light that renders all road facing rooms brighter than a thousand (flashing) suns? As an ex-serviceman I am indeed familiar with interrogation and deprivation techniques, so again I must congratulate the council member on their willingness to flirt with the Geneva Convention with such gusto.

So in that vein, as an ex-Serviceman, I shall keep the remainder of this letter short, succinct and to the point.
You utter tit.

Yours sincerely

 

[Whee]

My personal favourite is this one, sent to a Grimsby FC after they lost 2-0 to Bath City:

Dear Players of Grimsby Town FC

I am writing with regard to my absolute astonishment and disbelief as to the sheer magnitude of your complete lack of talent and failure to carry out the job for which you are paid to do. I am not aware of any swear word or other derogatory phrase in my current vocabulary which comes close to a description of your ‘performance’ (and I use that term loosely) this afternoon, but let me just say that you have collectively reached a level of inadequacy and ineptitude that neither I nor modern science had previously considered possible.

In fact I recall a time, in my youth, when I decided to call in sick at work and instead spent the entire day in my one bedroom flat wearing nothing but my underpants, eating toast and ******* furiously over second-rate Scandinavian porn. Yet somehow, I still managed to contribute more to my employer in that one Andrex-filled day than you complete bunch of toss-baskets have contributed to this club in your entire time here.

I would genuinely like to know how you pathetic little p**sflaps sleep at night, knowing full well that you have taken my money and that of several thousand others and delivered precisely **** all in return. I run a business myself, and I believe I could take any 4,000 of my customers at random; burn down their houses, impregnate their wives and then dismember their children before systematically sending them back in the post, limb-by-limb, and still ensure a level of customer satisfaction which exceeds that which I have experienced at Blundell Park at any time so far this season.

You are a total disgrace, not only to your profession, not only to the human race, but to nature itself. This may sound like an exaggeration, but believe me when I say that I have passed kidney stones which have brought me a greater level of pleasure and entertainment than watching each of you worthless excuses for professional footballers attempt to play a game you are clearly incapable of playing, week-in, week-out.

I considered, for a second, that I was perhaps being a little too harsh. But then I recalled that I have blindly given you all the benefit of the doubt for too long now. Yes, for too long you have failed to earn the air you’ve been breathing by offering any kind of tangible quality either as footballers or as people in general. As such, I feel it’s only fair that your supply runs out forthwith.

I trust, at this precise moment in time, that Mr Fenty is in his office tapping away on the Easyjet web site booking you all one-way flights to Zurich, complete with an overnight stay with our cheese eating friends at Dignitas. Don’t bother packing your toothbrush – you won’t need it.

In the event that our beloved chairman can’t afford the expense (understandable given that he’s soon going to have to assemble a new squad from scratch), then I am prepared to sell my family (including my unborn child) to a dubious consortium of Middle Eastern businessmen in order to pay for the flights. Christ, I’ll drive you there myself, one-by one, without sleep, if I have to.

Failing that, understanding that most dubious Middle Eastern businessmen are tied-up purchasing Premier League football clubs, I ask you to please take matters into your hands. Use your imagination, guys – strangle yourselves or cover yourself in tinfoil and take a fork to a nearby plug socket, or something. Just put yourselves and us fans out of our collective misery.

So, in summary, you pack of repugnant, sputum-filled, invertebrate b***ards; leave this club now and don’t you ******* dare look back. You’ve consistently demonstrated less passion and desire than can commonly be found within the contents of a sloth’s scrótum, so frankly you can just all **** off – don’t pass go, don’t collect your wages, don’t ever come back to this town again.

I look forward to you serving me at my local McDonald’s drive-thru in the near future.

Yours sincerely

A very disillusioned Mariner

 

[Steviebhoy]

My personal favourite is this one, sent to a Grimsby FC after they lost 2-0 to Bath City:

Dear Players of Grimsby Town FC

I am writing with regard to my absolute astonishment and disbelief as to the sheer magnitude of your complete lack of talent and failure to carry out the job for which you are paid to do. I am not aware of any swear word or other derogatory phrase in my current vocabulary which comes close to a description of your ‘performance’ (and I use that term loosely) this afternoon, but let me just say that you have collectively reached a level of inadequacy and ineptitude that neither I nor modern science had previously considered possible.

In fact I recall a time, in my youth, when I decided to call in sick at work and instead spent the entire day in my one bedroom flat wearing nothing but my underpants, eating toast and ******* furiously over second-rate Scandinavian porn. Yet somehow, I still managed to contribute more to my employer in that one Andrex-filled day than you complete bunch of toss-baskets have contributed to this club in your entire time here.

I would genuinely like to know how you pathetic little p**sflaps sleep at night, knowing full well that you have taken my money and that of several thousand others and delivered precisely **** all in return. I run a business myself, and I believe I could take any 4,000 of my customers at random; burn down their houses, impregnate their wives and then dismember their children before systematically sending them back in the post, limb-by-limb, and still ensure a level of customer satisfaction which exceeds that which I have experienced at Blundell Park at any time so far this season.

You are a total disgrace, not only to your profession, not only to the human race, but to nature itself. This may sound like an exaggeration, but believe me when I say that I have passed kidney stones which have brought me a greater level of pleasure and entertainment than watching each of you worthless excuses for professional footballers attempt to play a game you are clearly incapable of playing, week-in, week-out.

I considered, for a second, that I was perhaps being a little too harsh. But then I recalled that I have blindly given you all the benefit of the doubt for too long now. Yes, for too long you have failed to earn the air you’ve been breathing by offering any kind of tangible quality either as footballers or as people in general. As such, I feel it’s only fair that your supply runs out forthwith.

I trust, at this precise moment in time, that Mr Fenty is in his office tapping away on the Easyjet web site booking you all one-way flights to Zurich, complete with an overnight stay with our cheese eating friends at Dignitas. Don’t bother packing your toothbrush – you won’t need it.

In the event that our beloved chairman can’t afford the expense (understandable given that he’s soon going to have to assemble a new squad from scratch), then I am prepared to sell my family (including my unborn child) to a dubious consortium of Middle Eastern businessmen in order to pay for the flights. Christ, I’ll drive you there myself, one-by one, without sleep, if I have to.

Failing that, understanding that most dubious Middle Eastern businessmen are tied-up purchasing Premier League football clubs, I ask you to please take matters into your hands. Use your imagination, guys – strangle yourselves or cover yourself in tinfoil and take a fork to a nearby plug socket, or something. Just put yourselves and us fans out of our collective misery.

So, in summary, you pack of repugnant, sputum-filled, invertebrate b***ards; leave this club now and don’t you ******* dare look back. You’ve consistently demonstrated less passion and desire than can commonly be found within the contents of a sloth’s scrótum, so frankly you can just all **** off – don’t pass go, don’t collect your wages, don’t ever come back to this town again.

I look forward to you serving me at my local McDonald’s drive-thru in the near future.

Yours sincerely

A very disillusioned Mariner

Absolutely brilliant lol

 

[Steviebhoy]

Brian Clough was the king of this, no doubt where Martin O'Neill learned his trade.

"If God had wanted us to play football in the clouds, he'd have put grass up there." On the importance of passing to feet.
"I wouldn't say I was the best manager in the business. But I was in the top one." Looking back at his success.

"Manchester United in Brazil? I hope they all get bloody diarrhea." On Man Utd opting-out of the FA Cup to play in the World Club Championship.

"I can't even spell spaghetti never mind talk Italian. How could I tell an Italian to get the ball - he might grab mine." On the influx of foreign players.

"I bet their dressing room will smell of garlic rather than liniment over the next few months." On the number of French players at ****nal.

"Who the hell wants fourteen pairs of shoes when you go on holiday? I haven't had fourteen pairs in my life." On the contents of Posh Spice's missing luggage.

"Rome wasn't built in a day. But I wasn't on that particular job." On getting things done.

"On occasions I have been big headed. I think most people are when they get in the limelight. I call myself Big Head just to remind myself not to be." Old Big 'Ead explains his nickname.

"At last England have appointed a manager who speaks English better than the players." On the appointment of Sven Goran Eriksson as England manager.

"If he'd been English or Swedish, he'd have walked the England job." On Martin O'Neill.

"Anybody who can do anything in Leicester but make a jumper has got to be a genius." A tribute to Martin O'Neill.

"The ugliest player I ever signed was Kenny Burns." A Clough complement for a talented player.

"Stand up straight, get your shoulders back and get your hair cut." Advice for John McGovern at Hartlepool.

"Take your hands out of your pockets." More advice, this time for a young Trevor Francis as he receives an award from the Master Manager.

"The Derby players have seen more of his balls than the one they're meant to be playing with." On the streaker who appeared during Derby's game against Manchester United.

"I only ever hit Roy the once. He got up so I couldn't have hit him very hard." On dealing with Roy Keane.

"We talk about it for twenty minutes and then we decide I was right." On dealing with a player who disagrees.

"I'm not saying he's pale and thin, but the maid in our hotel room pulled back the sheets and remade the bed without realising he was still in it." Referring to former Forest player Brian Rice.

"If a chairman sacks the manager he initially appointed, he should go as well." On too many managers getting the boot.

"I thought it was my next door neighbour, because I think she felt that if I got something like that, I'd have to move." Guessing who nominated him for a knighthood.

"For all his horses, knighthoods and championships, he hasn't got two of what I've got. And I don't mean balls!" Referring to Sir Alex Ferguson's failure to win two successive European Cups.

"I like my women to be feminine, not sliding into tackles and covered in mud." On women's football.

''That Seaman is a handsome young man but he spends too much time looking in his mirror, rather than at the ball. You can't keep goal with hair like that." On England goalkeeper David Seaman.

"I've missed him. He used to make me laugh. He was the best diffuser of a situation I have ever known. I hope he's alright." On the late Peter Taylor.

"He's learned more about football management than he ever imagined. Some people think you can take football boots off and put a suit on. You can't do that." On David Platt's first season as Forest manager.

"He should guide Posh in the direction of a singing coach because she's nowhere near as good at her job as her husband." Advice for David Beckham.

"Barbara's supervising the move. She's having more extensions built than Heathrow Airport." On moving house in Derbyshire.