Complaining Is Fun: Laboratoires Garnier

You know that thing where it’s three in the morning and you can’t sleep, so you email a large company and pretend to be a former employee with a ridiculous grievance just to see what they say about it? Sure you do.

I just sent this to L’oreal, regarding their Garnier brand. You know, formerly Laboratoires Garnier? Yeah, took a bit of set up but I feel it’s worth it.

To whom it may concern

I was once employed as a scientist in your laboratoire and I experienced something truly horrifying which haunts me to this day.

You see, I was working in the laboratoire, late one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight
For my monster from his slab, began to rise
And suddenly to my surprise

He did the mash, he did the monster mash
The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash
He did the mash, it caught on in a flash
He did the mash, he did the monster mash

From my laboratoire in the castle east
To the master bedroom where the vampires feast
The ghouls all came from their humble abodes
To get a jolt from my electrodes

They did the mash, they did the monster mash
The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash
They did the mash, it caught on in a flash
They did the mash, they did the monster mash

The zombies were having fun
The party had just begun
The guests included Wolfman,
Dracula, and his son

The scene was rockin’, all were digging the sounds
Igor on chains, backed by his baying hounds
The coffin-bangers were about to arrive
With their vocal group, ‘The Crypt-Kicker Five’

They played the mash, they played the monster mash
The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash
They played the mash, it caught on in a flash
They played the mash, they played the monster mash

Of course, this all sounds like a fun time but I was shaken and am sure you will want to offer me some form of compensation. You know, face cream and such.

Yours,
Al Vimh.

I eagerly await their response.

DISCLAIMER: Obviously, that’s the lyrics to Monster Mash. I don’t own those. L’oreal did nothing wrong. Hope they see the funny side. Cheer up, people.

McSon of a…

Ah McDonalds, where the shambling, soulless oiks who failed the intelligence test required to be algae serve up barely edible cardboard in the name of capitalism.

And yet, we keep going back?

Today, a startingly moronic individual handed me my “meal” with that oh so familiar vacant expression and a grunt of “thereyago”, I retired to the torture device they pass as a seat and prepared myself for the veritable feast which awaited.

I chose the large Big Mac meal, as follows…

Big Mac – Lukewarm, dry, all the flavour of a week dead rodent

Fries – Fried what? No potato has ever tasted like this!

Orange Juice – Because as is so often the case, one of the worker-orcs had jammed his hand into the machinery or some other foolishness and the fizzy beverage dispenser was still clogged with unspeakable lumps

Mmm. Delectable.

But what’s this, what’s happening, could it be? IT IS!

A British man has complained!

Oh yes folks, I complained.
I wasn’t foolish enough to do it to the face of someone who could quite conceivably cast a hex on me, but I contacted them via e-mail and eagerly await the results!

And why this time, why not one of the hundred other occasions on which I was dissatisfied with their service?

Simple, I needed material for the blog.

Al out net-heads.