An Open Letter to People Who Use Cash Machines Twice in a Row

Dear People Who Use Cash Machines Twice in a Row,

What the hell is the matter with you people? As if the whole cashpoint ordeal wasn’t enough, what with the ridiculous fees levied by greedy bankstards (£1.75? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?), the constant threat of being mugged, card-cloned, pressing the wrong number of zeros and withdrawing 10x what I wanted, the machine being out of tenners and NO I DON’T WANT A FUCKING ADVICE SLIP, now it turns out it’s not even my turn yet?

I knew I should have walked a bit further to the Halifax machine, but I have a strange sense of loyalty to Nationwide. I wouldn’t want them to think I was cheating on them. Even though their machines are significantly slower than others. I mean, NatWest machines are the fastest, with them the card is in and out and you’re done before you’ve even worked out that the strange shadow on the screen is the NatWest logo burned into it. NatWest machines are like seasoned porn stars. You can see from the worn off number pad that she’s had a lot of experience, she swallows your card like a pro and then spits out your cash whilst loudly beeping expletives straight into the camera.

I know she’s a slut baby, but why do you Nationwide machines take it so damn slowly? We don’t need hours of foreplay when I’m just trying to get a tenner to buy some lunch. Why is your card reader so slow? And how long does it really take you to retrieve my account information?

So I didn’t want my card to get an STD which is why I joined this queue. It’s only 3 people long, shouldn’t take too long. I don’t like that it’s across a busy pavement and we’ve had to leave a gap for people to get through, I mean what if some queue jumping bastard decides to get in that gap? I’m not gonna tell him to fuck off, he might have a knife. Why does no-one ever queue along the wall to the side of the cash machine?

The guy before you wants an advice slip. Rookie. How has he not learned by now that they don’t really give that good advice? It’s generally just your balance. If you really want advice, ask your parents, they’re normally full of it. Or better yet, don’t ask them, they’re probably gonna tell you anyway. That’s what they do. What kind of advice are you asking for from a cash machine anyway. It’s a really basic computer, it’s not some advanced artifical intelligence. It’s not like that fortune telling machine in Big that Tom Hanks chatted up then she made him into a man boy (that looks strangely boy like still compared to Tom Hanks these days). Its just a cash machine. The best advice it could give you is either ‘stop spending money’ or ‘don’t ask me, I’m just a machine and in the 4 seconds it’s taken me to impart to you this advice, the ginger guy two behind you in the queue has got so angry that he might have beaten you to death already if you didn’t at least step to the side of the machine before reading this’.

And then you step up. Greedy Jim the cash machine hog. It gets a bit annoying when you stab your retarded fingers at the buttons on the keypad like you’re you’re playing whack a mole with the numbers. Then when you realise you got your pin wrong and have to start again, but instead of pressing clear, you press cancel and have to wait for your card to come out, the machine to be ready again and then start all over again. Then after putting in your pin you look round at everyone to make sure no-one’s looking over your shoulder. Guess what dickbrains, if anyone’s looking over your shoulder now, they’ve already got your pin because you already poked it in, plus I’m fucking definitely looking over your shoulder because I want to know how much fucking longer you’re gonna take before I can get a fucking tenner so I can eat some fucking food because I’m fucking hungry and my fucking lunch break is almost over because I’ve been stood behind you practically since I was fucking born.

By now I’m already contemplating the cost of a gun, I’m pretty sure that guy with his hood up could sell me one, and I’m wondering if he’ll take payment after I’ve shot you and had a chance to use the bastard cashpoint. I’m wondering if there’s enough in my account, but decide against it because I don’t know how much is in my account and I don’t want to hold up the queue behind me when it is my turn. It’s a pity you don’t think like that, as you’re currently browsing your transaction history and appear to be confused over a £5 transaction you can’t quite remember making. I wish you were dead. I wish your father had never met your mother on that street corner, or that the cash machine had been out of order when she demanded payment up front. Or that he could only afford a hand job so you and a million of your other potential brothers and sisters ended up in a drain instead of in front of me in the fucking queue.

What’s this, did you just press no to wanting another service? You don’t want any money? My emotions are torn right about now. I’m glad you’re finally about to cock off, but this means you’ve wasted all my time for nothing? Could you not have waited until after lunchtime? I think even the guy in the hood looks disappointed, I guess mugging you would have got him quite a bit of crack. Ah well, now why don’t you step to the side whilst putting your card back in your wallet?

Hold up you festering fuck hole.  We all just saw that.  Did you really think that the whole queue of 3 people would miss you slipping another card out of your wallet and into the machine?  What gives you the right to twosies on the cah machine?  Maybe if you’d had a friend queue up behind you and you used his turn we could maybe accept that, but you didn’t.  You probably don’t even have any friends.  They probably realised they should give up on being your friend when they all died of old age whilst you fucked about with your fucking personal finances on the bastard cash point.  I wish you were dead so hard it hurts me a bit.

You should be aware that when you finally leave this machine I’m going to give you a slightly off look because I’m really pissed off.  Then, if you’d like to stick around I’ll demonstrate how to properly use a cash machine whilst following my own unspoken cash machine rules:

1) have your card ready as you approach the machine

2) try and poke it in the slot before it’s ready so that as soon as it is ready you’re already in

3) enter your pin and press enter just in case.  Not all machines need you to press enter, but if it does and you don’t press it then I’m going to kill you

4) cash, no receipt, done, fuck off

Notice that my process took all of 45 seconds (30 on a NatWest machine) and yours took so long you missed your firstborn daughters wedding despite the fact that you’ve not even met the mother of your child yet because any woman that had met you would have run a mile when you explained to them that your hobby is conducting your personal finances on cash machines with a queue behind you.  Lets say it takes you 5 years to get over this, then another year to meet that blind, deaf and dumb woman that’s going to fall for you, a further year before she gets pregnant and that your daughter gets married at 23.  This means your transaction took a whole 30 years, 8 months, 30 days, 23 hours and 15 seconds more than mine did.

Is it any wonder that everyone hates you so much?

Yours frothing at the mouth in rage,

Chris

An Open Letter to Jim Morrison

Dear Jim Morrison,

I visited your supermarket today, as I often do when I need to buy food. It’s quite convenient that I choose to visit your place, as it happens to be the closest to my house. Other than the newsagent/grocery place, but I’m always a little bit scared to buy food there as it’s all a bit exotic for my tastes (some kind of Turkish or something) and the guy that works there is basically a darker skinned version of the girl from the uni shop (see my earlier letter to her).

Perhaps opting to visit an hour before closing was a bad idea. I was initially dismayed to see the lack of fresh produce at the bakery until I realised that was probably my fault. I guess you can’t keep baking lovely baguettes all day, otherwise you’d have a massive surplus at the end of the day. If you did decide to do that, I’d be happy to take a few off your hands. The shop was also pretty busy, I assume with people getting those last minute things they need for the night. And with staff getting in the way of their last few people before they get to go home.

Every time I turned a corner it seemed that one of your staff members stopped right in front of me to have a conversation with another one. Jim, you really need to train your staff a bit better. I’m all for letting them have a chat on the job, but please get them the fuck out of my way. I mean, I’m pretty sure one of them was trying to sit on the end of my trolley. I’d also be very grateful if you told that chav girl to not let her children run off. The sound of her screeching the ridiculous made up names she gave to her children is pretty annoying when you’re trying to decide which margarine to get. I went for the own brand olive oil spread in the end, not before almost hitting Danesha and Chantellion with my trolley.

It was pretty freaking busy as well, but I know that’s not something you control. Unless you’re holding out on us in a pretty big way. I mean, if you do control how busy it gets, maybe through some kind of mind control drug in the food, I would appreciate it if you could use that power to make it a bit quieter when I turn up. As if weaving through grannies wasn’t enough, when my aisle pattern gets synchronised with 3 other shoppers, it makes it pretty hard to randomize my flow to make it not look like I’m stalking someone. I get enough strange looks from people without them thinking I’m following them.

The checking out experience wasn’t great either I’m afraid to say. My hopes were high, having witnessed what appeared to be a smooth, friendly transaction between the gentleman in front of me and the cashier, but when I didn’t even get a hello, I almost cried. As it turns out I may well have been greeted by her, as when she did start talking I had to lean in so far she was basically licking my eardrum before I could even hear her. Even then it was a struggle to understand what the hell she was saying due to her strong accent. It turned out she was asking a question which was akin to something from a text-based adventure game, as I was apparently unable to proceed before providing the correct answer.

Usually when faced with these situations, I smile and nod. When there’s money involved, I’m less inclined to nod incase I’ve just agreed to spend more. In this case I opted to respond in the negative, which appeared to disappoint my cashier somewhat. I think she might have asked ‘do you find me attractive’. The answer would still have been no.

On departing the store, it became apparent to me that your groceries are apparently made of concrete. I’m unsure why you chose this material for everything in the store, other than the fact that it makes things incredibly difficult to carry home. At first I thought perhaps I had forgotten I had to carry this stuff and neglected to consider the weight of the items I purchased, but I’m not that stupid, it must be your fault. I would appreciate if, in future, you used a lighter material to produce your groceries, such as air. You might also find this reduces your production costs, resulting in discounts all round. This tactic would surely allow you to win the supermarket war.

Unfortunately, my story doesn’t end there. In fact, it was on arrival at home that my complaint is based. Whilst in the store, I was unable to resist the temptation of your Toffee Crisp Cookies. In fact, it was the thought of these that gave me the strength to carry the concrete groceries home. Imagine then, if you will, my disappointment when, on opening the bag of cookies, instead of the displayed quantity of five there were only four cookies contained within.

My initial response was an attempted suicide by suffocation, but my head would not fit in the tiny bag along with the four cookies and I’m not entirely sure it would’ve been air-tight anyway. It was then that I hit rock bottom, and decided to write this letter of complaint. I have attached an image of the bag in question, presently empty (it took the other cookies to cheer me up) and would be grateful if you could bake the missing cookie and send it back to me. Please don’t over cook it, I like it when they’re soft in the middle.

Yours sincerely

Chris

See the bit where it says 5? That was a lie

An Open Letter to Pricks Who Wear Retarded Kanye West Style Glasses

Dear Pricks Who Wear Retarded Kanye West Style Glasses,

Well, now it’s become clear that you know who I am, and are acutely aware of my planet sized hatred of all of you.

I’ll be honest, I didn’t even know these glasses were inspired by that wonky jawed egotistical talent vacuum when I first saw them, but that does go quite a way to explain some of what the actual fuck is wrong with you people. George Bush doesn’t care about black people? What you mean is people with an ounce of intelligence don’t give an AIDS fuck about Kanye West who is coincidentally black. I pretty much hate all people because Kanye West is one, as are all you little fuckbags who wear his arse specs. Don’t ever say I discriminate.

In fact, don’t ever say anything.

I mean, there are enough taboos for you to break with regular sunglasses, do you really need the extra dickness? What was wrong with just wearing your sunglasses indoors? Or at night? I’m fairly sure that before these twat-slats were released to general sale you were probably the guy we all looked at and hoped you would walk into something. Let’s be honest, in this country there’s probably only 30 odd days total that you even need sunglasses. I’m sure this fact makes the average cost per hour quite high compared to international sunglass wearers, but still, get your extra wear during the day. Outside. With real sunglasses. Or at least well away from me.

I bet you’re that guy who wears sunglasses on the tube. I mean, what THE FUCK is that about? You cruising for bitches on the tube? Hows that working out for you? How have you not learned yet that NOBODY TALKS ON THE TUBE. In a group of nobody talking to nobody, how likely is it that anybody is going to talk to the guy wearing sunglasses on the motherfucking tube?

Hell, I even saw a black dude wearing these glasses the other day. Even he couldn’t pull them off. Even a black dude looked like a fucktard wearing these things. You don’t stand a chance. You know what’s even worse? He was wearing pink ones.

I think we can tell a lot from your choice of face-wear. Like the star of David in Nazi Germany only you idiots choose to wear this. We can tell you’re bad at science, we can see that socially you’re about as useful as a bag of broken hammers and you’re clearly racist as you’re trying to look as good as black people. We can deduce from this that you’re likely to end up fucking skanks in the toilets at the job center so they can get more benefits by having more children they can neglect to the point that 20 years down the line they’ll probably end up wearing the same fucking glasses you’re wearing now, mouthing off in the street to people, claiming they could take 3 of us in a fight but actually struggling with one at a time.

Here’s an idea, next time its sunny why dont you test the effects of your fantastic glasses by staring at the sun through a magnifying glass, maybe that’ll burn some sense into your retinas so you can realise that your glasses look about as good as my face whenever the media mentions Jade Fucking Goody.

Next time, I’ll rip your fucking head off.

Chris