I like challenges!

I've revisited some old posts and rewritten them for the Readwave reading website as part of their weekly writing challenge competition. If you're new to my blog and haven't explored my old posts, here's an opportunity to read a couple of my posts, re-vamped, re-edited but just as stupid as ever. If you click on the pictures it will take you the stories on Readwave. Don't forget to share if you enjoy them. Thanks!

An Emergency Post

I have an emergency, readers. Yesterday, I made a truly horrifying discovery that has left me reeling with fear and racked with anxiety. Why?

I  have discovered I have a grey pubic hair.

I'm not sure whether this means my life is over or whether I need to get a Brazilian.

Any words of advice or comfort on this matter will be gratefully received.

Am I Cynic? The Problem of Plumbers

*Warning* Do not read this post if you are a plumber, married to a plumber, related to a plumber in anyway and, possibly, if you once had an affair with a plumber. If, on the other-hand  you have ever been overcharged by a plumber this post will probably appeal to you.

                                                                             *****

I think I've got more cynical as I've got older. I'm not sure if I actually like that trait in myself as it's nice believing everyone you meet has the best intentions, that firms might act in your genuine interests and tradesmen will do a good job without ripping you off.

Unfortunately, yesterday, I was in a cynical mood. It may have been the after-effects of being sold a dodgy packet of bread mix (see previous post ), or (perhaps more likely) because I'm a sour middled-aged harridan who's morphing into the kind of granny who rams shoppers with her electric wheelchair and bludgeons them with a pound of sausages as she speeds to the front of the queue at Tesco's checkout.

Anyway to get to the point; I was putting my shopping away and a business card fell through my letterbox. It read:

                         Traditional English Plumbing at Traditional English Prices

Naturally, the cynic in me burst forth as, in my experience, traditional English plumbing prices are calculated in a somewhat dubious manner. As an example, I've set out some costings below:

1. THE CALL OUT FEE: This is the calculated on the cost of approximately two days travel to and from the plumbers place of abode to your house - which he assumes is long distance even though you've told him it's in the next street. The plumber's call out fee will include: a full tank of petrol, one or two full English breakfasts, lunchtime sandwiches, three/six cups of coffee and (just in case he doesn't make it home by 4.30pm) a Kentucky Fried Chicken takeaway with extra fries.

2. THE HOURLY FEE: This could be anything. Literally. Pull a figure out of the air, double it, quadruple it and add on the date of your mother's birthday and you will probably be close to the hourly fee.

3. THE COST OF NECESSARY PARTS: The plumber will charge you the cost of the parts as they are in your local high-priced DIY store - despite the fact he will have paid peanuts at the local plumbers merchant.

4. THE COST OF UNNECESSARY PARTS: The plumber will charge you the cost of the parts you need - and the parts you don't need. You thought you had a leaking tap? No such luck. Your plumber will delight in telling you that your bathroom suite no longer meets current health and safety guidelines and you need a new one. He won't actually know those guidelines - but he will be able produce a glossy catalogue that you can look through while you make him a nice cup of tea with two sugars. And if you got some biscuits that will do nicely too.

5. THE COST OF VAT.  The plumber will tell you he can do your job for less if you pay him with cash which means he won't have to charge you VAT. This is a lie - he is still going to charge you VAT because he is not going to risk being caught by the Inland Revenue. So he will just charge you an extra 20% so that he can  knock it off and appear generous. The reality is you are getting stitched up and if you decide to pay by cheque/card the plumber will make an even bigger profit. Nice one, mate.

Here are five guidelines to follow to avoid supplementary plumbing costs:

1. Do not fart in the same air space as your plumber - he will charge you danger money.

2. Do not mention that you, your spouse or any of your relatives are a teacher.

3. Do not let your pets anywhere near your plumber as he will have to charge you for a day's extra work for a visit to the doctors to get a prescription for his asthma medication.

4. Do not mention you are thinking of moving house as he will seal your leaking pipes with Sellotape and charge the new occupiers for a return visit.

5. Do not tell the plumber you're a pensioner - otherwise his eyes will light up and he'll be ringing his investment banker before you've even made his first cup of tea of the day.

When your plumber peers round your bathroom door wearing this cheerful expression
 and says "I've found the problem!" - you know you're about to be screwed.

So am I cynic? Yes, I am. 

Another Baking Disaster

Cooking is not my strong point, as many of you know. However, even I reeled when I opened my bread-making machine and saw this:

The Cauliflower loaf - it will soon be all the rage in health food shops.
 Why ? Because it looks awful and tastes awful. Therefore, it must be good for you.

I am not sure what I did wrong, readers - as I read the instructions on the packet very, very carefully.

If anyone's got any idea how I managed to mess up a packet bread mix then please let me know. (Just stick to the facts though - no need to dwell on competency issues.)

Ps -I should add that the bread-making machine is one of Mr T's "useful" gifts. I am still waiting for the ipad.

My Top Ten Worst Companies for Customer Service in the UK

No 1. Coming in with unrivalled incompetence at No 1, the pole position for continuous spectacular incompetence over a decade of bad customer service, during which I have been reduced to tears and almost suffered a fatal coronary through stress is... British Telecom. This is the company that purports to be a communication provider but has as much idea what the word "communication" means as your average slug. In fact, a slug would probably arrive at its destination quicker then the average BT customer service assistant can understand the phrase "It is not working."

No 2. Sports retailer Sports Direct. The major difference between British Telecom and Sports Direct is that Sports Direct don't actually engage in any communication at all. They don't have a customer service telephone line, they don't answer emails and basically don't do anything at all. Unless you have paid for your purchase through a third party like Paypal there's more chance of the earth being hit by an asteroid than actually getting your money back or - in my case even getting the right product delivered.

No 3. British Telecom. Again. You know, I heard recently that the government are planning to install free BT phone lines in UK immigration holding centres. This is a cunning plan because the effect of experiencing BT incompetence will result in either the mass suicide of the illegal immigrants or they will return home as fast as possible - thereby solving the immigration crisis in one fell swoop.

No 4. This firm has a way of getting under your skin and is renowned for passing customers from one department to another and from service agent to another. During the course of one on-going complaint I once spoke to about twenty-five different people. This firm is.... British Telecom.

No 5. This firm gets its place not for continuous incompetence like British Telecom and Sports Direct but for the gravity of the situation which was totally *ucking up Master Sam's 18th Birthday present. This company is Comet. The customer service agents also lie at Comet which is not acceptable. Even British Telecom customer service agents don't lie - the customer service agents at BT are generally too thick to even understand the concept of lying. In fact, British Telecom service agents genuinely believe all the crap they spout. They believe that if they keep repeating the same answer, you will  also eventually believe your problem will resolve without the need to take any action. British Telecom customer service agents are usually religious - this is because they like to leave customer's problems in the hands of God.

No 6. You might have thought it was an urban myth that when you have a technical problem with your pc/phone/tablet, a customer service agent will tell you to turn it off and then back on again.This myth is not a myth it is actually true. Operating in a similar vein British Telecom's The Hand of God Concept this company believes flicking your switches on and off will also miraculously solve your problem. The company is, unsurprisingly, also British Telecom.

No 7. Microsoft. For having the most elongated procedure to change your password or security information ever. Forgetting your password is considered a crime at Microsoft and you will be made to suffer. Numerous forms, special codes, emails and phone calls later and I am still waiting to update Master Ben's Microsoft account. I now have to wait over a month before they will implement the change of email. It would be easier, and quicker, if Microsoft just sent you a whip and you could self-flagellate yourself as punishment. On the plus side, I should say that Microsoft customer service agents are very patient indeed and have an excellent bedside manner - there was only the tiniest hint of annoyance after my last approx 40 mins conversation with one of their reps - and I should point out that the reason our investigations were taking so long was due to slow broadband - which is the fault of British Telecom.

No 8 The makers of  Fifa 14, E A. To be fair to E A, I haven't actually complained to them yet. I have spent the last ten days trying to update Master Ben's Microsoft account and solve our broadband problem so that Master Ben can actually play Fifa 14. Sadly, now that we can access Master Ben's Xbox account the EA servers seem to be continuously down. Having researched this on the net, it seems this is an ongoing random problem. I am not sure if I can actually face complaining to E A. At this moment in time, I would rather take a gun to my head.

No 9. For being the only company where I have had to explain what an extension lead is to their customer service agent.

"An extension lead?"

"Yes, an extension lead. You know, it's a lead you can connect from your socket to your appliance so you can use your appliance in a different place. In my case, it's connected from the hub, runs up through the ceiling where I can connect it to my laptop, if necessary."

"Ah."

Yes, the no 9 position is British Telecom.

No 10 It probably goes without saying that British Telecom takes no 10 position. In fact, I actually feel a bit mean-spirited including Sports Direct, Microsoft, Comet and EA in the same air space at British Telecom who could actually take all ten chart positions with ease. I have a good friend who works for British Telecom (fortunately not in customer service.) I feel deeply sorry for her as she's probably going to burn in the fires of hell just for being associated with BT.  What bad luck.

Anyway, just in case you missed my artistic tribute to BT I created on one of my previous British Telecom rants, here it is again. I like it. It's kinda therapeutic.

Feedback on My Handbag Experiment

Okay, so it's time for feedback on my handbag experiment. If you remember from my post last week, Designer handbags are for women who are afraid they they can't keep their man the experiment I'd planned was to take my best handbag to my book club and see how my lady friends reacted. Would my handbag impress them so much that they'd be able keep their smutty hands off the gorgeous Mr T? Here's the kind of reactions I was hoping to analyse:

Would any of them pull out their little black books and delete Mr T's phone number?

Would any of them turn bitchy and make snide remarks about my bigger than average bottom?

Would they take it in turns to knock against my chair and manoeuvre me out into conservatory to sit alone whilst they discussed Mr T's sexual prowess and I was salivated upon by an overly friendly dog?

Would they even be impressed by best handbag or would they take it in turns to viciously mock my fake snakeskin Burberry purchased from Primark for the princely sum of £5.99?

Okay, so you can see there was the potential for a lot analysis from my night out at the book club. Like the authors of the report who had inspired my previous post I planned to get at least a PHD thesis out of it and maybe even a Nobel Prize. If I really got my act together I was hoping for a ten year research grant from Yale.

Sadly, my analysis didn't go quite as planned. Here's why:

I arrived home from tennis with the boys at approx 7.15pm. Book club started at 8pm at Mrs P's in a nearby village. There was time enough to get ready and change into something less creased and frumpy. However, Mr T wanted a lift to another nearby village to go the pub with a friend so he got straight in the car and I drove him there. This took approx twenty minutes. I returned home at about 7.35 believing I still had fifteen minutes or so to put on some clean clothes, some lippy and transfer some stuff into my best handbag.

Unfortunately, it was not to be - as Master Jacob and Master Ben had put the catch on the inside of the door so I couldn't get into the house. I was locked out.

I knocked on the door. I banged on the door. I practically kicked the door in.

I rang the house phone using my mobile 13 times.

I sent Master Jacob 3 emails.

At 8pm I left my doorstep and went to Mrs P's wearing my dirty trousers, scrubby shirt and holding my daily Kipling handbag which is at least six years old and seen better days. The arms have also fallen off the novelty signature monkey keyring which is attached: it is an armless monkey. Sadly, I arrived at Mrs P's in a somewhat distressed state and worst of all - since I had to pick up Mr T later I didn't even get to have a relaxing alcoholic beverage.

There is a moral to this tale. I'm not sure what it is but it probably involves not letting your kids have a television in their room and it certainly involves not buying them headsets.

I will be conducting the handbag experiment at a later date. If I remember.

I am planning on mounting one of these on top of my car to increase my chances of actually getting into my own home. It will be also be useful for those occasions when I get cut up by male drivers and I need to give them a piece of my mind.

Me and My Laundry Pile - A Short and Sorry Tale of Ironing Incompetence.

Oh. Dear. God. I am in serious trouble, Readers.

My ironing pile has spiralled out of control. (I'm not even mentioning the dirty washing pile.) I have no idea where to start. I look in the utility room and I just want to die. Or at least get therapy.

I'm not sure if I can afford the therapy but I'm pretty sure that Mr T will wring my neck when he opens his wardrobe tomorrow morning and finds there isn't shirt.

I hate ironing. How do some people run ironing businesses? I would rather swim naked in a large pool of sewerage than iron for a living.

I was not destined to be a housewife. I was destined to be something else. Maybe a taxidermist. At least then I'd have somewhere to stuff my laundry out of sight.

Help.