ABoZers’ Blog

customer complaint

Posted in Uncategorized by aboz on 29/01/2009

[riceviamo e volentieri pubblichiamo]


This is a letter recently received by the Virgin Atlantic customer complaints team and is currently being hailed on news blogs, such as this one on The Telegraph <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/travelnews/4344890/Virgin-the-worlds-best-passenger-complaint-letter.html>  as possibly the funniest customer complaint letter ever.

We called the Virgin Atlantic press office and they confirmed they received the letter and that Richard Branson himself called the author to thank him for the feedback.

Here’s the letter:

Dear Mr Branson

REF: Mumbai to Heathrow 7th December 2008

I love the Virgin brand, I really do which is why I continue to use it despite a series of unfortunate incidents over the last few years. This latest incident takes the biscuit.

Ironically, by the end of the flight I would have gladly paid over a thousand rupees for a single biscuit following the culinary journey of hell I was subjected to at the hands of your corporation.

Look at this Richard. Just look at it:


I imagine the same questions are racing through your brilliant mind as were racing through mine on that fateful day. What is this? Why have I been given it? What have I done to deserve this? And, which one is the starter, which one is the desert?

You don’t get to a position like yours Richard with anything less than a generous sprinkling of observational power so I KNOW you will have spotted the tomato next to the two yellow shafts of sponge on the left. Yes, it’s next to the sponge shaft without the green paste. That’s got to be the clue hasn’t it. No sane person would serve a desert with a tomato would they. Well answer me this Richard, what sort of animal would serve a desert with peas in:


I know it looks like a baaji but it’s in custard Richard, custard. It must be the pudding. Well you’ll be fascinated to hear that it wasn’t custard. It was a sour gel with a clear oil on top. It’s only redeeming feature was that it managed to be so alien to my palette that it took away the taste of the curry emanating from our miscellaneous central cuboid of beige matter. Perhaps the meal on the left might be the desert after all.

Anyway, this is all irrelevant at the moment. I was raised strictly but neatly by my parents and if they knew I had started desert before the main course, a sponge shaft would be the least of my worries. So lets peel back the tin-foil on the main dish and see what’s on offer.

I’ll try and explain how this felt. Imagine being a twelve year old boy Richard. Now imagine it’s Christmas morning and you’re sat their with your final present to open. It’s a big one, and you know what it is. It’s that Goodmans stereo you picked out the catalogue and wrote to Santa about.

Only you open the present and it’s not in there. It’s your hamster Richard. It’s your hamster in the box and it’s not breathing. That’s how I felt when I peeled back the foil and saw this:


Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it’s more of that Baaji custard. I admit I thought the same too, but no. It’s mustard Richard. MUSTARD. More mustard than any man could consume in a month. On the left we have a piece of broccoli and some peppers in a brown glue-like oil and on the right the chef had prepared some mashed potato. The potato masher had obviously broken and so it was decided the next best thing would be to pass the potatoes through the digestive tract of a bird.

Once it was regurgitated it was clearly then blended and mixed with a bit of mustard. Everybody likes a bit of mustard Richard.

By now I was actually starting to feel a little hypoglycaemic. I needed a sugar hit. Luckily there was a small cookie provided. It had caught my eye earlier due to it’s baffling presentation:


It appears to be in an evidence bag from the scene of a crime. A CRIME AGAINST BLOODY COOKING. Either that or some sort of back-street underground cookie, purchased off a gun-toting maniac high on his own supply of yeast. You certainly wouldn’t want to be caught carrying one of these through customs. Imagine biting into a piece of brass Richard. That would be softer on the teeth than the specimen above.

I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was relax but obviously I had to sit with that mess in front of me for half an hour. I swear the sponge shafts moved at one point.

Once cleared, I decided to relax with a bit of your world-famous onboard entertainment. I switched it on:


I apologise for the quality of the photo, it’s just it was incredibly hard to capture Boris Johnson’s face through the flickering white lines running up and down the screen. Perhaps it would be better on another channel:


Is that Ray Liotta? A question I found myself asking over and over again throughout the gruelling half-hour I attempted to watch the film like this. After that I switched off. I’d had enough. I was the hungriest I’d been in my adult life and I had a splitting headache from squinting at a crackling screen.

My only option was to simply stare at the seat in front and wait for either food, or sleep. Neither came for an incredibly long time. But when it did it surpassed my wildest expectations:


Yes! It’s another crime-scene cookie. Only this time you dunk it in the white stuff.

Richard…. What is that white stuff? It looked like it was going to be yoghurt. It finally dawned on me what it was after staring at it. It was a mixture between the Baaji custard and the Mustard sauce. It reminded me of my first week at university. I had overheard that you could make a drink by mixing vodka and refreshers. I lied to my new friends and told them I’d done it loads of times. When I attempted to make the drink in a big bowl it formed a cheese Richard, a cheese. That cheese looked a lot like your baaji-mustard.

So that was that Richard. I didn’t eat a bloody thing. My only question is: How can you live like this? I can’t imagine what dinner round your house is like, it must be like something out of a nature documentary.

As I said at the start I love your brand, I really do. It’s just a shame such a simple thing could bring it crashing to it’s knees and begging for sustenance.

Yours Sincererly…


17 Responses

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  1. keter1 said, on 29/01/2009 at 16:28

    Richard Branson lo ha assunto, ma io lo voglio sposare!
    Ironico, intelligente per non parlare della buona posizione alla Virgin!
    devo assolutamente sapere ed assaggiare la Baaji custard!

  2. stripedcat said, on 29/01/2009 at 22:40

    potrei inviarvi raccomandate che voi umani non avete mai visto

    hinting at the impact of nuclear warfare on fine watches

    e relative a banali pulizie di routine del movimento

    ma non posso

    blade-haiku-ly yours

  3. stripedcat said, on 31/01/2009 at 11:13

    Rednose me ne ha fatto un recital in cucina al ritorno da Berlino mentre preparavo la nostra mitica pasta della disperazione…Fantastic!!!

  4. rednose said, on 31/01/2009 at 15:10

    a questo punto occorre dare la … ricetta della disperazione 😀 io la conosco, ma gli altri no …

  5. aboz said, on 02/02/2009 at 10:11

    stavo giusto pensando la medesima cosa…

  6. keter1 said, on 02/02/2009 at 12:54

    io ho passato un fine settimana dove la pasta della disperazione avrebbe fatto la sua porca figura!
    RI – CE – TTA
    RI – CE – TTA
    RI – CE – TTA

  7. stripedcat said, on 02/02/2009 at 19:07


    – 2 scatole di sgombro (non piace? abort! abort! escape! escape!)
    – se vi piace, allora continuate a recimolare
    – 200gr di spaghettoni GROOOOSSSSSI
    – 1 limon (zitrooonen…come direbbe de funes)
    – pangrattato!!
    – scatoletta magica di trito di prezzemolo e garlic surgelato! (disperazione oblige)
    – sale bretone, rigorosamente
    – olio d’oliva purizzimo pugliese buonizzimo

    Procedura (uh!)
    mettere a cucinare la pasta
    con un po’ d’olio d’oliva rosolicchiare l’aglio con il prezzemolo
    senza infortunarsi aprire le scatole dello sgombro, dare qualche briciolina di sgombro alle masse festanti di gatti adoranti, scolare nel lavabo della cucina l’oliaccio bleah che c’e’ dentro pulire il lavabo della cucina prima che se onzi tuto
    mastruzar lo sgombro nella padella senza pietaaaaa
    con fare fulminio, spadellare gli spaghetti scolati ma non troppo, aggiungere olio d’oliva a crudo e succo di limone, mantecare con il pangratt….dai…non troppo liquido non troppo sssutttto!!
    …SERVIRE…con spruzzatina di sale bretone bello scrocchiarello e un filettino (mmmma ssssi) aggiuntivo di olio…eh eh

    Funziona molto bene quando c’e’ TANTA FAME e NIENT’ALTRO DA MANGIARE

    *cfr TS

  8. stripedcat said, on 02/02/2009 at 19:10

    (cio’ ma nissun che gavessi i muppets?)


    – 2 scetule-a dee sgumbru (nun peeece-a? eburt! eburt! iscepe-a! iscepe-a!)
    – se-a fee peeece-a, ellura cunteenooete-a a receemulere-a
    – 200gr dee speghettunee GROOOOSSSSSI
    – 1 leemun (zeetruuunen…cume-a durebbe-a de-a foones)
    – pungrettetu!!
    – scetuletta megeeca dee treetu dee prezzemulu i gerleec soorgeletu! (deespereziune-a oobleege-a)
    – sele-a bretune-a, reegurusemente-a
    – ooleeu d’uleefa pooreezzimu poogleeese-a boouneezzimu

    Prucedoora (uh!)
    mettere-a a cooceenere-a la pesta
    cun un pu’ d’uleeu d’uleefa rusuleecchiere-a l’egleeu cun il prezzemulu
    senza inffurtoonersee eprure-a le-a scetule-a dellu sgumbru, dere-a qooelche-a breeciulina dee sgumbru elle-a messe-a festuntee dee gettee eduruntee, sculere-a nel lefebu della cooceena l’uleeecciu bleeh che-a c’e’ dentru poolure-a il lefebu della cooceena preema che-a se-a oonzee tootu
    mestroozer lu sgumbru nella pedella senza peeeteeeea
    cun fere-a foolmeeniu, spedellere-a glee speghettee sculetee ma nun truppu, eggeeoongere-a ooleeu d’uleefa a croodu i sooccu dee leemune-a, muntecere-a cun il pungrett….deee…nun truppu leeqooidu nun truppu sssoottttu!!
    …SERFIRE…cun sproozzeteena dee sele-a bretune-a bellu scruccheeerellu i un feelettinu (mmmma ssssee) eggeeoontifu dee ooleeu…eh ih

    Foonzeeuna multu bene-a qooundu c’e’ TENTA FEME i NIENT’ELTRO DA MENGIERE

  9. stripedcat said, on 02/02/2009 at 19:10

    sembra Lino Banfi…

  10. keter1 said, on 02/02/2009 at 20:51

    la procedura verrà sicuramente eseguita, ma una domanda.
    Ho sale della Camargue, mi si rovina il piatto?

  11. stripedcat said, on 02/02/2009 at 23:09

    puo’ far male alle associazioni mentali, vedi eccidio di aigues-mortes…ma le papille forse le freghiamo

  12. aboz said, on 03/02/2009 at 12:36

    Tanto in Puglia che in Calabria e Sicilia ci sono piatti simili (ne ho appena imparato uno, buonissimo e rapido).
    Tu dove hai imaprato questo? Lo fate a Trièstaa??

  13. stripedcat said, on 03/02/2009 at 12:51

    ho adattato la ricetta che c’e’ dentro le scatole di riomare (alla siciliana) e sgombrato via il tonno, e rimpiazzato la bella mollica di pane raffermo con la disperazione del pain grate’

  14. aboz said, on 03/02/2009 at 14:59

    quindi sarebbe bastato dire che hai “sgombrato il tonno”!!!


  15. stripedcat said, on 03/02/2009 at 16:04


  16. El fiol del Zani said, on 03/02/2009 at 18:00

    …Mmmm… Nisun gà comentà el verbo “mastruzar”. I sè diventà tuti sgai ‘sti muli.

  17. stripedcat said, on 03/02/2009 at 18:06

    te ga dito ben…e mi che spetavo una reazion…

    xe vero che rednose senti spesso el zigo in giro per casa:

    anche se xe un’accezion diversa de mastruzar…sicome ciccio xe’ un gato panzon, xe riferibile al francese
    (mastruzar el trippon del gato, che ghe piasi sai)

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