So, I'm in Leeds for the night. And I'm checked in to very boutique-y hotel, where, for some reason, the guy manning reception is sporting a very fetching brogue.
To be sure.
Unfortunately, he is also a cock-sniffing fuckmonger of the very highest order. While I was checking in, he harangued me about how much my carbon footprint is and what all the clever things are that this fucking hotel is doing to save electricity and stuff. Listen, fucknugget, I don't give a fuck. I'm tired and I want somewhere to sleep.
So I get into the room and what do I find? A pamphlet asking me to put only recyclables into one bin and food waste into another.
What the fuck?
Then I went to get my parking ticket pre-approved because I have a very early start tomorrow. And I get this condescending arsemunch laying it on with a trowel how their system would not keep track of the validation across a date change. Well, fucking thanks for telling me how fucking useless your software vendor is, but how the cunting fuck is that my problem?
What happened to a big of courtesy and trying to hang on to customers in these trying times, you goat-felching jizzwaft?
I'm tempted to start smoking just so I can smoke in the room, just to fuck them off.