AN OPEN LETTER TO THE ARSECLOWNS AT HSBC,

I am going to be rich. I have a plan. When I return to the UK I am going to employ about a dozen out of work actors and dress them up in the uniforms of so-called service providing institutions like banks, telephone companies and the operators of utilities; pretty much any company that boasts a call centre. Then I’m going to take out an advertisement. It will read as follows:

Have you been frustrated by your bank’s inability to offer a satisfactory service? Tired of being kept on hold? Has your usually calm demeanour been ruffled by bank staff who are insufficiently qualified to deal with your quite reasonable requests? Does this make you really, really, ball-achingly aggravated? Does it make you so angry that you feel the only way to relieve that anger is by throwing warm porridge at a bank employee from a distance of no less than 10 feet?

Well help is at hand. Here at World’s Local Bank My Arse we offer just such a service. For just £50 an hour we’ll send over a fully trained actor dressed in the uniform of the financial institution of your choice. Our actors are just like real bank employees, the only difference being you’re allowed to pummel them with breakfast cereal every time they utter those tick box phrases real bank employees are so fond of farting out their mouths.

Imagine responding to classics like; “I’m afraid this department can’t deal with that request” with a steaming volley of soggy Quaker Oats. Satisfying and nutritious! Call today and for no extra charge you will receive our free introductory offer and watch as your “bank employee” pours tuna and sweet corn sandwich mix and rubbing alcohol into their underpants.

So, as you may have picked up, I’m having some banking difficulties. Despite informing HSBC that I would be in Egypt, Syria and Jordan during the month of September some overly officious little back room bastard has frozen my ATM card and I can’t withdraw a brass razoo. Fortunately, as always, I brought along some travellers cheques, a massively unfashionable currency according to the woman in the bank who sold them to me while trying to up-sell my account to something called HSBC Premium Traveller, which provides all sorts of useless services for £20 a month. Well, unfashionable they may be, but at least they fucking work. HSBC? World’s Local Bank my arse.

The Coolest Thing I Saw Today!

The coolest thing I saw today is on haiatus. HSBC has made me too grumpy to think of something cool. Bastards.

(Since writing this post I have started to have difficulties exchanging travellers cheques for hard cash. This is extremely frustrating. I have yet to devise a money making scheme from this situation. In time I will)