It's not often we here any complaints about Velvet PR's service however we found this funny compaint letter sent to the directors of Sizzling Pub chain! Needless to say they never received a reply....
To: 'media.centre@mbplc.com'
Cc: 'guest.services@mbplc.com'; 'company.secretariat@mbplc.com'; 'franchising@mbplc.com'
Subject: Please forward this onto the relevant department.
Good afternoon,
I feel compelled to write in after a recent experience at The Travellers (Long Lane, Bexleyheath) today and feel I should share my experience with you.
Friday 28th May, 13.30pm (local time)
It was a sunny day and myself and my fiancé were both very excited at the prospect of filling our rumbling bellies after the mornings meal of cheerios didn’t quite fill the hole. After debating various options we decided that due to the location and proximity to the nearest lavatory we would pull into the travellers on Long Lane in Bexleyheath.
My first impressions from what I can remember was one of sheer delight as my penis tingled with excitement at the prospest of being able to relieve what felt like a reservoir into the base of the cubicle. Without a second thought I gladly relieved the contents of my phallus not forgetting to wash my hand before I walked to the bar to browse the menu.
We both scoured the menu for what seemed like forever, both of us unsure with some many choices on offer which gourmet experience we were going to select, however we both did eventually decide that the combo meal (steak and rib) and philliy burger were going to be the most exciting and fulfilling option.
After paying for both meals which came to around £13 we both decided that a game of pool would be a good idea as this would pass the time and bring our sumptuous meals to us quicker. I was just about to pot the black ball relegating my fiancé to the losers bench when we spotted the waitress with a beaming smile coming towards us, me and charis (my fiancé) both looked at each other and gave out a small wail of excitement which went unnoticed by the rest of the customers, however a small fart did pop out and marred the smell of my incoming combo meal.
We both sat down and our meals were put infront of us, forks at the ready but before I had a chance to dig in I had to scrape what seemed to be a gallon of a rather unpleasant BBQ sauce of the top of my meal. I peeled back the layers of this brown goo to reveal what can only be described as a slab of some sort of fossilized cow shit.
The steak knife that i was using didn’t stand a chance cutting into this meaty flavoured brick that despite being covered in sauce was drier than a nuns vagina. Worse was to come however. When I moved that aside using every last fibre of muscle from my already bulging bicep I encountered what was described on the menu as “RIBS”... however a think a better description of this would have been “shit stuck to a bone”.
Infact it was worse than shit, as this shit had not even been cooked correctly It was still alive, it was a fresh a shit as I have ever seen and had i not beaten it to death with my ketchup satchet It very well may have run off my plate and joined its mates at the bottom of pubs toilets. After beating it sufficiently I peeled the undercooked shit away from the bone and slowly it made its final journey to my gob where it did not stay for long as the combination of shit and BBQ sauce was not pleasant attal so I put it back down on my plate and if i can remember correctly let out a smaller fart than before.
Myself and my fiancé discussed the options available to us being;
• Pretend to enjoy it to avoid causing any fuss
• Try an hide the offending dishes in the pool tables pockets
• Go and change it for something that resembles something slightly less shitty
We both decided that option 3 would be the best option as if I did not eat soon my bum could quite well fall off. I made it to the bar without causing much attention from fellow customers and very discreetly called over the bar lady to explain that the dish that had been served to me was as edible as crusty bogey, she duly arrived and without a moment’s hesitation i explained that I simply could not eat this and could I possible order something else...
The look on her face send a shiver down my spine, like I had commented on her mother’s knickers and despite what she must have been feeling inside she gritted her teeth and replied in a soft but menacing voice “of course sir”.
It was at this point where i again scoured the menu for something that would be simple for a chef to cook and yet be tasty enough for me. I came to the conclusion that fish and chips would be hard to fuck up so i ordered it and made the walk of shame back to my seat where my fiancé was halfway through tucking into her philly burger.
Within what seemed like seconds what used to be smiley waitress plonked the “fish and chips” in front of me and scurried off before I had a chance to ask for a sick bag just in case. I tapped the crust or batter shall we say with the back of my fork and could not believe my eyes when as if URI Geller had been there himself, the fork bent into a 45 degree angle without even marking the surface of the “fish” I sat in shock as to my new physic powers until i realised that the coating in which the fish was set in was as hard as reinforced titanium, it was simply impossible to get into.
10 minutes went by and much banging and chiselling took place before I cracked the surface and revealed a mash potato like substance that almost resembled clotted breast milk and at this point I decided that I was in fact going to have to resign to the fact that I would be left hungry this lunch time.
Not only was the fish fucked, but the amount of oil being released from it was on par with the oil spill in Mexico at the moment, infact I was checking the bill to see if i had been charge fuel duty. I could have quite easily powered my glade touch and fresh for a century with the amount that was dripping of that god awfull peice of shit.
As i write this I am now at home feeling the effects of what has to be the worst meal i have ever had and unfortunately the farts that had been fairly enjoyable in the pub have now stained my white trousers and caused a severe blockage to my toilets pipes.
My arse from what my fiancé tells me looks like something out of “Aliens” and has produced a smell so vile that our dog has had to stay with the neighbour.
I do hope this email gets passed to the relevant department and a message can be sent back to the “chef” at The Traveller in Bexleyheath that I wont be returning for a long time, well at least until my arse has fully recovered and I believe his/her talents lie somewhere else, may they could take up science instead as they seemed to have created something truly vile and possible by accident they have generated a new species of shit which the world has never seen before.
I look forward to receiving confirmation of this email,
Have a great weekend,
