Kiss my furry winnit-encrusted arse Phones4u you pathetic shower of useless tossbags. If British Unfairways were into mobile phones then surely this would be their business model. Having spent much of the last two days panting with near exhaustion in the back of a hot car whilst me Dad drives from pillar to bastard post all round bastard town trying to sort out what should be a relatively simple problem for most normal people, but clearly not for the combined ineptitude of the window licking retards at Phones4u. Bellends4u that's what they should be called. Take note of their "no returns even if we have blatantly failed to deliver what we said we were going to deliver policy" with the jokingly added on "this does not affect your statutory rights". Me Dad's statutory right is to have his fucking money back whilst I inform the world that a more useless shower of incompetent monkeys than you lot it would be difficult to chance across outside a home for amoeba's with learning difficulties. You should be in a fucking zoo having nuts thrown at you, not selling mobile phones to the unsuspecting general public you cock ends. I've licked more intelligent things than you off my own arse. Pooh count: a load lightening six, all of which will be thoughtfully placed through the Phones4u letterbox this very evening. Unwrapped of course. Get yourself down to Carphone Warehouse in town for some efficient, swift and knowledgeable service. And the prices are cheaper there too, it's a no brainer. Woof.
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.