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Letter from Cairo

Dear Mr Thomas Cook,

It is with great regret that I find myself locked inside my hotel room, typing this letter of complaint, when I should be outside enjoying the package holiday that I paid a bloody fortune for. This won’t do, and I can assure you that I won’t be using your services in the future.

Since arriving in Cairo last week, the holiday has gone from bad to worse to absolutely bloody disgraceful. For starters, it’s just too damn hot… which wouldn’t be a problem if I could sit beside the swimming pool in a civilised manner. However, the air is heavily polluted here- the horrendous stench of burning rubber is enough to make anyone sick, but now they seem to have started burning human flesh as well. Not on. To make things worse, the noise pollution is extraordinary. All this incessant chanting…what are they even saying? It all sounds the same to me, they could at least have the common courtesy to speak in English. Their entire economy is built on tourism- show some bloody gratitude!

I have never before experienced such appalling customer service. I doubt that Jamie Redknapp would stand for this, and I certainly won’t. It took me three hours to get a beer in the hotel restaurant the other day, an absolute shambles. It’s like a ghost town, only a handful of staff have even bothered to turn up and they are just moping around with million mile stares. Totally unprofessional and, let me tell you, thoroughly unacceptable. It seems like these people lack the basic values to turn into work each day. Sure, go out and make bloody racket- it is a free country after all- but do so in a way that doesn’t affect people who have paid good money to be there. I didn’t get where I am today by skiving off work and shouting in the streets like a bleeding Bolshevik. Those last years of Gordon Brown were no picnic, let me tell you, but you didn’t see me rubbing my shoes against a picture of his face. You know why? Because I was in work, doing my bit to put the Great back in to Britain.

On the rare occasion that we have deemed fit to leave the hotel premises, we have been appalled by how filthy the streets have been. You can barely walk without tripping over flags and rubble and all manner of debris. Hardly the immaculate beauty promised in your brochure. Furthermore, the “friendly vibrant culture” that you promised seems to be a gross fallacy. I was expecting much more of the people here, but my confidence seems to have been misplaced. I can hardly begin to tell you how much I was looking forward to being mobbed by street vendors hoping to sell me sunglasses, bongos and other such hilarious trinkets. That’s the kind of go-getter attitude that I thoroughly approve of, but it is no where to be seen.

My previous points pale in the face of our trip to the museum last night. All around us people were screaming and lashing out. Save for a few rather friendly fellows on horses, the crowds were an absolute disgrace. Crikey Moses, you’ve made your point, now go home and let me enjoy the Jewels of King Tut in peace- or at least have the common decency not to run about ripping the arms off mummies and using them as weapons. I tell you, the things we saw we will never forget. Blood everywhere. People on fire. We even saw a man with his brains hanging out; really shook up my missus, that did. If you think that you can get away without paying us compensation for this you are greatly mistaken. We have human rights too, and it is clear that the tourists are the real victims here.

I have never been so angry in my life. Having flown half way across the world to experience the ‘Wonders of Egypt’, I now find myself wondering how I could have been stupid enough to use your services after a long history of disappointment.

I trust you received my letter from New Orleans.

Sincerely,

Nigel H Mortimer


This post first appeared on Answers In Caves | Automatic Ranting And Spectral, please read the originial post: here

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Letter from Cairo

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