On guarantees not being worth the paper you wipe your arse on

On guarantees not being worth the paper you wipe your arse on

Last week, I had cause to use the services of greatest lving Welshman Russel T Davies Rikaitch, inventor of the Vending Machine That Does Chips An' Stuff and all-round technical genius.

Seriously, Rik's bloody brilliant at computers, and he did a marvellous job of Scaryduckling's laptop, which she - to use the correct technical term - had completely cattled.

The only problem we had was with our choice of otherwise reliable courier, being just about the only one in the country who won't steal your shipment or try to play football with it, Parcelfarce take note.

So, running to a deadline, I was forced to make a phonecall:

"Hello, Otherwise Reliable Courier Limited, how can I help you?"

"Oh, is that Otherwise Reliable Courier Limited?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

"I was wondering where my parcel is. I booked the 3pm guaranteed delivery and it's now 3.10. I'm on a deadline, and..."

"Ah," said the girl on the other end of the line, about to explain company policy for the 200th time that week.

"Ah?"

"It's our company policy. The 3pm guaranteed delivery doesn't actually guarantee a 3pm delivery. It's more of a target."

"More of a target?"

"That's right, sir. If we can't deliver for 3pm, we at least try for the same day."

"And if you don't?"

"We don't like to talk about that, sir."

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!" I said, putting the phone down.

Dial-a-payoff-line

Here's your chance to end this story in a hilarious and appropriate manner.

Dial 09011239590654703450 for "Guaranteed delivery? The bastards have still got it."

or

Dial 09011239590654703451 for "I'll give them a guaranteed delivery. Poo. Letterbox. It's the only language curs like this understand."

Calls cost £300, 0.000001p goes to our "Kick Ant'n'Dec in the chuff" charity. Lines close midnight 19th October 1968. Votes made after that time will not be counted, and you will still be charged for your stupidity.