“I know your fucking rights!”
I recently purchased a nice new cardigan for my husband from Marks & Spencer’s. He’s quite elderly and is due to go into hospital shortly for a rather serious operation so I thought I’d give him a little treat. However when he tried it on, it was a bit long in the arms so I took it back to exchange it for a smaller size. The staff weren’t at all helpful and when I asked to speak to the manager he told me the garment had been soiled and refused point blank to help.
I wonder if you could help me with this one Danny as we’re both old age pensioners and can ill afford to lose money like this. Thank you ever so much dear.
I’ve gone round to the shop and given the first geezer I spotted a right-hander which knocked him spark out. I don’t know if it was Mark or Spencer I straightened but he won’t be giving any more old people a load of diabolical old toot for quite some time, stand on me love!.
I’ve then spotted his mate hiding behind the counter so I’ve steamed over and shoed the mug right in the kidneys. He’s gone done like a good un so I’ve pulled him to his feet and clumped him round the swede with a couple of left and right hooks and he’s gone down again like a sack of spuds.
At this point one of the shop girls came over begging me to leave him alone but I’ve told her to leave it out and that it was just between me and him.
Once he was back on the deck again I’ve pulled out me Stanley blade and given him a few stripes across both cheeks to remember me by. At the end of the day Dorothy you can’t let these people ride roughshod over your consumer rights my lovely.
If you get any more grief from these slippery arseoles, or indeed anyone else in the retail trade for that matter, don’t hesitate to get in touch.
All the very best sweetheart