The Devil’s Used Tampon of a Hotel

Filed Under Rants

On our rescue mission to find the world’s cutest dog, and to visit Mrs bb’s father’s grave for Father’s Day, we were lucky enough to spend some time at The World’s Worst Hotel.

I think it was probably the people who worked there that made it such a shitty experience.

We had a meal in the restaurant when we arrived and there was this GodAwful screeching noise throughout the entire meal. It seemed to be the breakfast cabinet thinggy [please note – this is not the one in question, just a picture of one] which was empty yet still turned on. We asked if there was anyway we could stop this awful noise at which the waitress kindly replied “I don’t think so, it does it all the time”.

I’m sure it fucking does do it all the time you dozy bint, it’s because it is on all the time. Turn it off, piercing noise stops. Simple.

The next morning we came down to breakfast and had a full Welsh breakfast. This is apparently identical to a full English breakfast apart from the fact it doesn’t come with any sauces (tomato, brown etc). When we asked for tomato sauce the restaurant manager looked at us as if we were insane and said “We don’t do tomato sauce here”.

WTF? You are a restaurant. You are serving bacon, sausage, egg, beans, hash brown … and you won’t serve tomato sauce?

To make matters worse, now that the breakfast thinggy had something to cool, it was borderline ecstatic to have work to do and let us know by screeching all through the meal again. Imagine if you will trying to eat when someone is dragging their fingernails down a blackboard all the time 🙁

We had our morning showers (with a shower that went hot/cold/hot/cold and only came out of half of the head) and went about our business for the day. Wisely we ate out at a lovely Indian that evening.

We get back to our hotel room and find that since we were quite a way from the stairs, it was obviously too much effort for the maid to make it all the way down to our room and do anything, so we had no soap, no shampoo etc and the towels were still damp. As it happens, Mrs bb is very tidy so the room didn’t need making up.

We asked at reception for some more soap and shampoo but were told that this was, of course, impossible since they do not replace them when used. God help anyone who stays for longer than a few days and doesn’t bring their own supplies.

The next morning, as we went down to breakfast, you’ll never guess what we saw on a table just outside of the restaurant … a big bowl of tomato ketchup packets (and mayo, mustard etc)!!! The guy in the restaurant couldn’t be arsed to even tell us where to get some – he just flat out lied and said “no, we don’t do it”. We are fit, able bodied indivduals quite able to serve ourselves from the screeching banshee of a breakfast thinggy so would have had no problem fetching it ourselves if that was what was required to obtain some. But no, the lazy cunswup of a manager couldn’t even say “condiments are on the table over there”. You lazy fucking fuck.

It was at that point we had a revelation – the eternal screeching from the breakfast bar was not a noisy fan, nor were the pulses of hot/cold/hot water from the half functioning shower random.

The screeching was the noise of a 1000 tortured souls trying to get something that resembled service in the hotel industry’s equivalent of the Devil’s Asshole Devil’s used tampon. The breakfast bar was really a portal to another dimension! The overwhelming pain of dealing with Beaches Hotel surly staff had become so much that it was leaking through via an eternal screech!

I think the pulsing of the shower was morse code for “You dumb fuck – fancy booking into this hotel – it shall only bring you pain. Leave while you still can”.

And if you think the website looks nice, you’ll notice it only has a couple of images … that’s because the rest of it looks like this :

The Beaches Hotel

So all in the The Beaches Hotel, Prestatyn gets a hearty bb_hotel_rating : 0/10.

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Welcome Nell

Filed Under News

We have a new addition to the family – a bouncing baby girl 🙂

Her name is Nell and she is a 12-14mth old Husky/Collie cross that we rescued from North Wales. She is quite simply the most adorable dog in world (with Tycha coming in close 2nd).

I am, without doubt, the world’s biggest softy when it comes to animals and even if Nell turned out to be this ugly we would have still loved her with all our hearts. As it turns out – she’s pretty cute.

Sleepy Nell

Sitting Nell

Click on pictures for full size Nell Goodness 🙂

 



What I fail to understand, so very completely, is the mentality of the person(s) who would abuse a dog like this and then leave it tied up to a lamppost to starve to death. You are sick, very sick. If I ever find you, you will be even sicker.

I am not by nature a violent individual, but I would wake up every morning with a spring in my step if I could go to work and inflict anywhere near the same level of suffering on those responsible. I would make Hostel look like an episode of the Teletubbies and every night I would sleep so soundly you wouldn’t believe it.

Any-hoo, this post is not about the terrible, terrible things I would do to those responsible, it is a celebration of having such a loving dog in our house.

To Nell!

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Righteous

Filed Under News, Rants

Somethings in life are righteous.

Today – two righteous things happened to me. And boy does it feel good 🙂

1. Old Landlord

Mrs bb and I have purchased our first house together. Naturally that means we have left our rented accomodation and did the whole check the property for damage thing. We all agreed, very nicely, that there was some wear and tear which we would have to pay for.

When the cheque for our deposit arrived – they had taken over £350 for a 3m sq piece of lino!

Mrs bb was a little more restrained than I in her reaction. After we had decided that perhaps a thermonuclear strike (my idea) was a touch over-reacting, Mrs bb crafted a kick ass letter and fired it off. It contained lots of things like “legislation xxxx paragraph yyy says that you are in breach of zzzzz by doing this”.

Our landlord was never the sharpest tool in the toolbox. You would actually feel stupider after speaking with im. In fact, the longur you tawked two hymn, the wurz it gott. No way was it his idea to rip us off.

Now Mrs Landlord was another story – anal to the point of OCD. She knew what she was doing when she sent through that phoney quote and everything. What she hadn’t expected was the awesome power of MadWife(tm). Even I don’t mess with that. Chuck Norris doesn’t fuck with MadWife(tm).

Today a cheque for the correct difference arrived in the post. Righteous! And quite lucky for Mrs Landlord else she would have had to face the awesome fury of MadWife(tm). And that is enough to ruin anyone’s day. Badly.

2. Barclays Bank

This is not my first blog about Barclays. But today, my relationship manager phoned up and was surprised to hear I was planning on moving banks and I actually got to explain to her that she is less suited to being a relationship manager than Harold Shipman was to being a GP.

I spend nearly £10k a year with Barclays, just on bank charges. I do not have an overdraft, I do not want an overdraft. I have no special account requirements (other than several accounts in different currencies). All I need is that when I make an international same day payment, it is processed quickly, efficiently and I get my MT100 (proof of payment) quickly to give to my suppliers. This is not too much to ask one might imagine.

To highlight exactly how poor the service has been at Barclays, one day recently I was expecting some funds from one of my customers. Normally these funds hit my account by 9am. When they weren’t in by about 11 I asked my relationship manager to see if she could try and track down where the payment may be. I provided MT100, reference numbers and everything.

Her response : “As for the payment it can come into your account at anytime today”.

Right. Fantastic. Thank you for taking the time to check into it. Don’t worry about me – I’ll just sit here with all the proof that the funds should already be here and reflect on the temerity of actually asking you to do your damn job.

I realise that yelling and shouting at people, and generally being offensive, is rather an unappealling trait. But ever since this lump took over running my account she has done nothing, nada, zilch to help. Actually reaching her by email or phone has always ranked as one of my most difficult achievements.

So to actually reach get her on the phone and manage to explain that just ignoring emails and phone calls has not endeared her to me, shoot down her “I never got any emails/calls” with read receipts etc but more importantly to actually get it off my chest was, indeed, RIGHTEOUS!

Dozy fucking cow.

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