Another morning wasted.

I have just sent an email. I shan't bore you with details. You can read the email and bore yourself silly with the details. The names of those involved have been changed. Then changed back again. Enjoy.

Dear Chris,

Further from our telephone conversation earlier today, I am writing to complain about what I perceive to be mis-selling, and unauthorised funds being withdrawn from my bank account. I was cold called last Thursday, and through quite a garbled sales pitch, was offered an insurance renewal on my Sky box. I informed the agent that I had just been employed by Sky and was not sure whether I would be entitled to a discount with my employment, to which she replied that she works for Sky and has to pay hers. This led me to assume that I was being called by Sky themselves, which as I have now learned is not the case.

Following a very confused call which was very heavy-handed in trying to make a sale, I agreed to set up a direct debit for the 15th of each month, as that is when my wife gets paid. I informed the agent that I would discuss it with my wife, and was assured that I would be sent paperwork confirming the contract, and could cancel at any time. I was led to believe that the £6 a month was only applicable on that call. Hindsight tells me that it was so the agent could guarantee the sale for herself.

In providing card details to set up a direct debit, I was told my card was declined. The agent asked a supervisor for help, who tried re-entering my details, and I was told it had been declined again. Alarm bells started ringing; I said: "You're not trying to take money out of my account, are you?" but I was informed that that was the case. I told the supervisor that it was not what I had agreed, and that I do not have the funds in the account. She told me that the direct debit would be set up as planned, and I was assured that it would be for the 15th of each month, and that I could cancel at any time once the paperwork arrived. At time of writing, I have received no documentation in the post.

On checking my bank account this morning, I discovered that £6 had been taken on a debit card payment by Skylite. As soon as I saw the name, I checked Google and discovered for the first time that your company is not affiliated with Sky. My bank informed me that I was unable to recall the payment, as it was a card payment, not a direct debit. As you can imagine, I am not best pleased, particularly as I was assured that a direct debit would take payments on the 15th of each month. This card payment, to which I did not agree, has left us in a difficult position; my employment with Sky has not yet begun, so in the meantime we need every penny we have or can get. As agreed on the telephone conversation earlier today, I would like the £6 refunded into my bank account as soon as possible, and would like my details stricken from your records. Having worked in retail and customer service for over a decade, I do appreciate that yours is a very target-orientated business, but as I pride myself on my own customer service ability, I always balk at poor service and ineffective two-way communication, when an agent's self-motivated 'make the sale no matter the cost' attitude overrides customer care. It is poor business practice to simply not listen to your customer.

I appreciate the time you have spent reading my letter, and wish you a good day.

Yours sincerely,

Ian Hewett

I guarantee they'll take nothing from my comments. They'll probably congratulate the agent on being so aggressive in her selling, to the point of lying not once, but three times. Still, I'm getting my refund, so job done. I hate cold calls. It takes a certain kind of person to do that job. I'm not generalising, as there are some people who excel in that line of work with dignity and tremendous salesmanship. Some, like the agent I spoke to, are out of their depth to the point of desperation. I know that I couldn't do that job; I'll be dealing with incoming calls in my forthcoming job (still waiting for a start date, bah), which is fine. That's on the customer's terms, and they're not wrong-footed instantly by some chump trying to distract them whilst simultaneously nicking their wallet in a clumsy, illiterate Fagin-esque way. I'm a reactive salesman by experience, which involves listening to what your customer wants, helping them get that something, and providing further help with other things that may interest them. It's not rocket surgery, or indeed brain science, but it takes a certain knack, one which I developed over time. I'm by no means perfect at the job (I'm probably going to be a bit rusty now), but it's something you learn and develop over time. People can tell when you're desperately attempting to flog them an overstock. The best feeling (though bittersweet) in my old job was when people assumed that I was on commission, which I wasn't. Though the general public usually can't be bothered (or don't have the decency) to commend decent customer service, this was often the closest I got to getting a compliment. It made me enjoy the job more, knowing I seemed to be doing it right. I honestly don't think a lot of cold callers have the same motivations or job pride as I have. Saying that, they're much better at it than I ever could be. Bastards.

***

Don't forget, I'm looking to publish some guest posts on here as soon as I get them. It'll give me the chance to get Destinauts closer to completion whilst keeping this place ticking, as well as showing the world what a talented, funny bunch of people you lot are (plus, if you have your own site or blog, it's a bit of free advertising for you, innit?). I've had quite a few interested peeps already. Don't be afraid to contact me. If you follow me on Twitter and send me a message, I can DM you my email address for submitting your guest blog. It can be on any subject, entirely image-based (or not at all), a video, a list, a rant, whatever you like, so long as it sort of fits the tone of this place. Don't forget, any questions or advice, ask me on Twitter.

Oh, while you're here, pop along to the Destinauts blog page, scroll down and become a follower. There are 8 blog followers at the moment, and 40 Facebook fans. I'm hoping for as large an audience as I can muster when it launches, and any help you can give me is much appreciated (and needed!). I'm getting there. Finished another page last night. The first 'issue' is probably going to be 10 or 11 pages long; I'm aiming for a monthly frequency, but the more I get back into the swing of drawing and colouring, the quicker I should get. He says.

Have a lovely day. The sun's shining here, hope it is where you are. Unless you have some kind of allergy to sunlight that baffles medical science, in which case, um, stay warm.

I need you! In an innocent way.

Hello.

At the moment, I'm working away on Destinauts, so I won't be posting here as often as I have been for a while. As a result, I want to try out guest posts to keep the place ticking. You know the sort of thing I usually post on here; it can vary from stuff about TV, your own life or whatever you want, preferably in a similar tone to my stuff (but don't let that hold you back).

If this experiment proves successful, I may publish guest posts on a more regular basis. If you're interested, let me know.

(If you want to see the Destinauts preview stuff, click on the link on the right).

Thanks, you.

Dearth of a Salesman

Ladies, gentlemen, other. I am no longer a statistic.

This morning, I was phoned by Sky, and told my interview had been successful, so therefore I'll now be able to put "Murdoch Henchman" on my CV. After 4 months of desperately trying to get work, and suffering at the hands of the Department of Work and Pensions, and the spiteful cunts at HMV who wouldn't let me get on with my life, I'm finally getting out of the doldrums. As you can imagine, I'm extremely happy I got the job, and you'll probably realise how much when you know what I had to go through.

It's based in Cardiff Gate, which is a fucking nightmare to get to at the best of times, more so if you don't drive, like poor bastards such as myself who rely on public transport. In trying to work out my route there, I consulted the Wikipedia of map resources, Traveline. Here's the final part of the journey route they provided:

The green line from the bottom of the map is my route. The yellow square is where I had to get off the bus, by Asda. The white line along the red line is where I had to walk. Fairly standard stuff, no? Well, the red line's a dual carriageway. And it was snowing its arse off.

I had no choice. In my finery (well, my interview suit, black shirt, white tie; I looked like a nightclub bouncer who'd been kidnapped and left for dead at the roadside), I made my way along the dual carriageway, no trace of a pavement, just a muddy verge. Several police cars sped past. Luckily for me, there seemed to have been an assault or an armed siege somewhere, so I was small fry in comparison. To the sub-human scum that caused whatever horrific event made me 'not worth it', I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Anyway, after half an hour of nearly getting killed 3 times, I reached a pavement. Now I was lost. The map told me to go past a hotel. I saw a hotel. I went past it. I ended up in a Welcome Break services. I asked for directions, and was told to go past the other hotel that wasn't on the map, and that I couldn't see through snow-blasted eyes.

I finally made it there with minutes to spare. I joined my fellow applicants in the lobby, and immediately felt overdressed and fucking ancient. I was tired, freezing, in strange surroundings and, by comparison, old. That must've been what it feels like to be an elderly woman who can't pay her gas bill.

Moving on, part of the interview involved a maths test and a spelling test, which had to be done in 10 minutes. As I started the maths section, the left hand side of my face starting to spasm. I couldn't control the corner of my mouth or my eyelid. "Fuck," I thought, "I'm having a stroke." Seriously, having a stroke was the last thing I needed. It was actually neuralgia-related, brought on by the freezing weather I had to endure. I knew that it affected some of my answers, and I'm usually okay with mental arithmetic. At that point, I completely forgot the concept of numbers and the manipulation thereof. Spelling test, though: piece of piss.

After the interview, I left the building, and was happy to see a bus stop. I was less happy when I saw there wasn't a bus for a few hours. I spent the best part of an hour trying to find alternative routes back to Asda, which involved looking suspicious behind a nursery. Again, that was the last thing I needed. However, every conceivable path back to civilisation was fenced off. I had no choice.

Walking back down the dual carriageway was even more treacherous than before, since the traffic was heavier and heading directly for me. There seemed to be more bushes forcing me to walk directly onto the road this time around, too. Thankfully, it had stopped snowing. Mercifully, it had started pissing down with rain instead. I eventually made it home, wondering what I would do on a daily basis if they did offer me the job.

As it turns out, there's a free bus that goes there. So that's nice to know after the fact.

This comes months after losing my job with HMV and its bullying management (check back through December's blog posts to read the full story - it's the blog called Clusterfuck). If you ever get a job with HMV and you have kids, don't tell them. They'll hold your career back and promote fucking teenagers with no experience over you. The way they operate is wholeheartedly illegal and discriminatory, but if you question it, they'll make stuff up about positions not being available, or something about your performance. They only allow arrogant braggarts and bullies reach management level. I could tell you some nasty stories about some of them, but that's for another time. Stay tuned.

After losing my job, I had to start signing on. Extremely humiliating, and no matter how hard you genuinely try to find work, you're treated the same as the lazy bastards who've never worked in their lives and have no intention of doing so. Last month, after being unemployed for 3 months and having applied for what must've been upwards of 300 jobs, the DWP contacted me, telling me that they'd contacted HMV asking for details on my departure. They told them that I was "dismissed due to not opening the store on time, causing potential loss to the company". Since they're not allowed to give that (extremely biased and one-sided) version of events to possible employers, they shouldn't be allowed to give it to the DWP, particularly as they did not consult my version of events. Anyway, based solely on what my twisted, beaver-faced former manager told them, they stopped my JobSeeker's Allowance immediately with no warning. It did not matter to them that I have two young children, nor that I was actively seeking work (with plenty of proof to back it up). We were left solely with my wife's income, which just about covers mortgage and bills. I appealed straight away, pleading poverty and starvation, amongst many other reasonable things, and I'm still waiting. So, I went from being dole scum to being just scum. I was told I could apply for a hardship allowance, which I did. I'm still waiting for that too. They still expected me to sign on, which I did. They then expected me to sign on weekly instead of fortnightly. I enquired how I was supposed to get to job interviews, and even to get to the Job Centre, with no JSA to pay for travel. I was told to apply for a hardship allowance. I could see I was getting nowhere. They're supposed to be there to help you, but they treat you as if you're on a production line. You're not an individual, you're a statistic, and family people like myself are treated abominably. Some people know how to work the system (if anybody from the DWP is reading this, I will be more than happy to provide the identity of two benefits cheats I know who work the system very well). The lesson appears to be: never, ever tell the truth, or you'll get chewed up and spat out.

After I was told I had the Sky job this morning, I had a phone interview with AA. I didn't get it, possibly because I told them I was looking forward to working with drunks.

Not really.

The real reason is this. The interviewer asked me about my previous employment, and was keen to know why I left. I felt compelled to tell the truth. I told her about the bullying, and she seemed genuinely sympathetic. I told her about the way I'd been treated by HMV, but it wasn't reflective of my entire time with the company. I genuinely used to love my job, and had seven successful years with them, and I made them a lot of money. She asked the official reason for my departure, so I told her. She terminated the interview, telling me that it wasn't their policy to employ people who've been dismissed from a job. Idiots.

I suppose I'm an idiot for being too honest. My wife thought so when I told her.

Still, I've got a job now. Fuck you, AA. Fuck you, DWP. And, most especially, a wholehearted fuck you, HMV. I've got Murdoch Henchman on my CV after you now, and you can't hurt me or my family any more.

There. I feel better now.

The Sound of Drums

Some people call me cynical. Yeah, I know, where do they get these crazy ideas? A lot of things annoy me. Lots of TV annoys me. I cannot bear the celebrity culture we find ourselves in. I can't stand the smug self-importance of [insert bland insipid television presenter here]. I hate it when things you love turn into something you hope gets better. I found that Mock the Week with Frankie Boyle was a show that was a heavily scripted, non-improvised topical satire show masquerading as a panel show, which made me laugh out loud as everybody tried to out-funny said comedian. I find that Mock the Week without Frankie Boyle is a heavily-scripted topical satire show masquerading as a panel show, and the convenient topics for the stand-up bits are more obviously than ever an outlet for segments of their existing stand-up material (I can spot a lot of Russell Howard's bits as segments from his show, and Sarah Millican's last appearance was identical to bits from her Live At The Apollo set), whilst Andy Parsons reminds me more and more of Stone Cold Steve Austin after suffering a mild stroke, leading him to channel the spirit of Griff Rhys Jones. I used to love the show, but losing Boyle has de-clawed it somewhat. Having the comedy Kryptonite of Patrick Kielty in the first episode of the new series has probably tainted my opinion of the show. Cynical? Me? Not a bit of it.

I came to a realisation recently. I love EastEnders. Re-read that last sentence. Not a trace of sarcasm or bitterness. It's just celebrated its 25th anniversary, and I realised that, on and off, I have been watching it since the very first episode back in 1985. It's very easy to mock the soaps and look down on them, as I think some of the snobbery of some parts of the entertainment industry has filtered its way down into public opinion (because, as I think we've well established, other people are invariably idiots, except you, obviously), but watching the live episode on Friday, it was clear that these are some very talented actors. I have to single out Jake Wood, who I was first aware of as Killcrazy in Red Dwarf VIII, who was fantastic in his portrayal of Max Branning when Bradley died. Superb, as was the fact they kept the identity of Archie's killer secret (from the viewers and the cast) until the very last moment of the episode.

In EastEnders Live: The Aftermath, George Lamb, the only person in the UK to be named after two pubs, told Charlie Clements (Bradley), still with fake blood around his noggin, who the killer was. The Aftermath show was great for two things. One, it allowed Larry Lamb (Archie) to make a rape joke (which mysteriously vanished in the repeat), and two, it allowed June Brown (Dot) to show up George Lamb as the twat he is, visibly flustered by her frank answers. Bless her. As well as being a wonderful actress, she's now my hero.

So, EastEnders. It has a reputation of being miserable, yet it is one of the most successful and popular programmes this country has ever produced. It has a streak of black humour running right through it, which I greatly appreciate, and as the live show demonstrated, has some of the best actors in the country. Over the years, it has (sometimes heavily-handed, admittedly) educated the public about many 'issues', from teenage pregnancy, to homosexuality, to racism (does anyone remember when dear old Jim Branning was a shameless bigot when it came to his son-in-law, Alan?), to HIV/AIDS, to rape. Some might say that too many murders, deaths and general ill happen in Albert Square. Well, it's a serial drama, not an accurate portrayal of real life. If you want attention seeking fuckers playing up to the camera, watch one of the inept 'reality' shows that spread throughout the schedules like a cancer.

EastEnders can be a little heavy handed, as I've said. Sometimes, they'll bring a character in and really force them to fit and be accepted. Thanks to the revolving door of executive producers, you'll get a cull of characters that have outlived their usefulness every couple of years, yet sure as eggs is eggs, you'll always get another Mitchell or two shoehorned in. I'm sure if Leslie Grantham hadn't been so keen to suck his finger on an insecure net connection, Den Watts would still be around. No programme is perfect, and EastEnders is no exception, but when it gets it right, it does it exceptionally well.

I've never watched Coronation Street. Not once. As I said once before, I told a former acquaintance this, only for me to be told "don't be stupid". It's true, though. I'm sure avid viewers of (ahem) 'Corrie' (sigh) love it for whatever reason, but it's just never appealed to me. I think it's the theme tune and that fucking cat on the roof, they always put me off when I was a kid. Still, if Sir Ian McKellen wanted to be in it so badly, it can't be that bad, can it?

I've watched EastEnders for 25 years. Aside from when I was at university when I had no TV, I've watched most episodes. Without a trace of cynicism, I think it's brilliant. I have fond memories of the show, and love it when old characters return and interact with newer ones; I'm looking forward to Kat and Alfie coming back. They were great. I recently saw a clip of Civvy Street, the 1988 Christmas special set during World War II. It was just like watching Rock & Chips, only funnier. I think they should have shown that, as well as the first ever episode, during the anniversary celebrations, but one thing I'm not is a television scheduler, nor am I level-headed. So, EastEnders. I love it. I love it that much that I won't use the phrase "duff duff" to sully it. I still can't believe that Laila Morse (Big Mo) is Gary Oldman's sister, though.

Anyway, for those waiting for Destinauts, I know I've promised it here and there, but personal life stuff has managed to get in the way quite a bit. I've been working hard on it though, and currently I reckon it'll début in March. Here, though, is the first bit of preview art. To tie in with today's overall theme, meet Cynicus...

Have a pleasant day.

You'll Like This, But Not A Lot, Davros.

Yesterday, the BBC released a new promotional image for the forthcoming Matt Smith era of Doctor Who, which got fanboys very excited indeed. However, it's been somewhat overshadowed by the leaking of an image that was found down the back of John Nathan-Turner's fridge, dating from 1987. It features his choice of successor to Colin Baker, along with an assortment of colourful characters the Seventh Doctor would meet. Had the proposed star not been trying to get Hollywood funding for a Wizbit movie at the time, things might have been very different.

Aside from JNT's favourite motif, the excess of question marks on the Doctor's costume, the clothing was just a modification of Paul Daniels's own suit he wore on his top-rated magic show. The fact that Steven Moffat has opted for a toned-down variation for the Eleventh Doctor is not too much of a surprise; later in the 2010 series, we've been promised a return of the Kandyman and Sabalom Glitz. Hale and Pace are due to reprise their roles as the hilarious shopkeepers from Survival, and we can also look forward to the return of Ken Dodd's Tollmaster. "John Nathan-Turner was a very successful producer on Doctor Who," said Moffat yesterday, "and he's got his detractors, but he must've done something right to be in charge of the show for so long. What we're looking to do is emulate parts of his era, which means plenty of returning monsters, like the Tetrap and the Kitlings. We've recently found the original props and costumes for these in a skip, so they'll be back on your screens intact very shortly. Kids will never look at cats in the same way again."

Something that JNT was fond of was shoehorning light entertainment stars into episodes of Doctor Who, and Moffat is keen to return to this noble tradition (more so than Russell T Davies did, anyway). Soon, we'll be seeing Bruce Forsyth's Borusa, Christopher Biggins as the Meddling Monk, and Bernie Nolan as the Rani. "I have as much respect for the Time Lords as my predecessor, so it's only right we do them justice," says Moffat.

So, a bold new era for the 47 year old show. It might have been so different had they not discovered JNT's promo sheet.

Paul Daniels was unavailable for comment. Nor was his assistant, the lovely Debbie McGee.

Revealed: Behind The Scenes Of The Archie Mitchell Murder Investigation

Thanks to Danny John-Jules for the inspiration. :)

Happy Collop Monday, One And All!

Welcome to the weird little stop-gap between Valentine's Day and Shrove Tuesday. It's perfect for people rejected in love, because they can legitimately comfort eat to their heart's inevitable failure. Some call this convergence of two seemingly unconnected events 'natural selection'.

Here's some Valentine's Day facts:

• Vernon Kay singlehandedly catapulted the UK out of recession last week. Thorntons, Vodaphone and Interflora are said to be "delighted".
• Too many butchers miss a sales opportunity on Valentine's Day. A bit of clever merchandising could get shot of all those sheep hearts.
• Everybody is compelled to get into the spirit of the day by feasting on as many human hearts as possible. If this doesn't make you more romantic, it does at least get you in touch with your inner Klingon.
• As of today, everyone can delight in the incompetence of certain over-zealous HMV managers, now struggling with their vast overstocks of unsold (and now unsellable) love songs compilations they ordered without sale-or-return deals in place. Bastards.
• As ever, Frank Sinatra sales were up. Nothing like a bit of Ol' Blue Lips on Valentine's Day. *Other dead crooners with Mafia ties are available.
• Don't forget, you can turn your Valentine's Card upside down and re-use it for St Arse's Day.
• Don't worry if you didn't get a card. The greetings card industry will create more opportunities for disappointment over time.
• You only have to buy Valentine's cards once, in theory. If you trick that person into dating then marrying you, job done.
• Not romantically inclined but still get 'those' urges? Just save your money for St Fuckbuddy's Day.
• Judge the personality and greed of your prospective Valentine by seeing her reaction to foregoing a restaurant for a ready meal.
• Being shot through the heart by a naked flying baby is some people's idea of romance. There are specialist sites for this, apparently.
• Dates are difficult to get through, expensive for what they are, and can leave a bitter taste in your mouth. Good in cakes, though.
• Remember, some people don't like kidnapping, so you may have to rethink your Valentine's Day plans for next year.
• For every bear sold for Valentine's Day, Clinton Cards execute a real grizzly bear.
• "Valentine" is an anagram of "An Evil Net". Just a coincidence.
• Be careful: "Will you be my Valentine?" is an MI5 trigger phrase for executing the nearest ten people to yourself by snipers.
• The British government are encouraging Mormonism to drive the economy through Valentine's Day.
• Vernon Kay leaves his cards signed with a "?" for 2 reasons. It's just in case Tess finds out, and because he can't spell his name.
• Alex Zane marks all of his Valentine's card envelopes "return to sender".
• Guantanamo Bay is being replaced by the recently discovered Cupid Snare found in the Neverland Ranch.
• Valentine's Day was started by late actor Valentine Dyall, and was originally about Masonic handshakes.
• A romantic and a Roman tic are two different things, but both can involve togas.
• February is a short month, so that you can get to payday quicker after spending your entire wages on anonymously-signed cards and highly-flammable bears instead of food.

Anyhoo, hope you had a good Valentine's Day either way, and if you were hoping for success but it didn't happen, didn't get upset by the heavy commercialism informing you that February 14th is the only day in the year you can get your end away.

So, in preparation for Pancake Day...

• Chris Brown loves Pancake Day. The things that man can do with a good batter.
• "Don't forget the pancakes on Jif Lemon Day" was a slogan for the Altzheimer's Society.
• The art of pancake flipping was invented by Stuart Hall for It's A Knockout, as was making royalty look like cunts.
• If you feed a chicken the right ingredients, its eggs will contain ready-made pancake batter.
• PANCAKE stands for Protocol Activation: Non-Christ-Associated Kulinary Exercise.
• Pancakes are omelettes for the greedy.
• It is illegal to make pancakes on any other day of the year.
• Ash Wednesday is about the various houses that have been burned down from people who aren't used to cooking anything more complicated than toast.
• Syphon off a little petrol from your neighbour's car to make sure your pancakes are cooked thoroughly and quickly.
• If you don't have a frying pan (or your gas has been cut off), simply pour the mixture into a toaster.
• If you're not adventurous, you could always prepare yourself a Findus Crispy Pancake. Make sure it's not a beef one.
• When you inevitably start vomiting, try not to think that you've been dragged into yet another mass-event that you don't know or care about the origin of.
• Loved one in prison after 'that' event on Valentine's Day? A pancake is a great way of hiding a file for those pesky bars.
• On Shrove Tuesday, pancakes can actually be used as legal tender in any shop, apart from Wilkinson's.
• Addicted to pancakes, but want to quit? You can get patches from any pharmacy that will allow controlled amounts of yolk, albumen, glucose, citric acid and saturated fat into your bloodstream.
• If that doesn't work, you can always run these phrases through your head like a mantra: "fat bastard", "it came out of a chicken's arse", "there's that tingling in your left arm again", "I can't get what Edwina Currie said out of my head", and "oh, fuck, I just thought of Edwina Currie, and now I've got a picture of her and John Major in my head."

Hope you enjoy tomorrow. Whatever your faith (or lack thereof), we must all celebrate the time that Jebus used up all the crap left in his fridge and cupboard before payday.