Seen elsewhere - no, I won't say where!  I'd refer not tempt any 
apprentices that may be reading.

===========================================

This is the story of my recent debacle with British Gas, made even more 
unfortunate, for it is a true tale. So if you are sitting uncomfortably, 
then I'll begin.

A few weeks ago, I received my gas bill in the post (I don't care for 
Direct Debits, there's something rather common and mistrusting about 
them). Enclosed with the bill was a letter and with the letter, there 
was a sort of coupon or voucher. I learnt from reading the letter, that 
it was whence forth, to be referred to, as a “Bond”.

Later and with the help of the Hubble Telescope I was able to decipher 
the microscopically small print on the aforementioned “Bond” and 
learnt that I would have to spend getting on for £3million worth of 
gas, in order to get an extra whiff of it for free. In other words, if I 
used enough gas to heat, say Belgium, they'd give me enough to fill a 
lighter. So, a mere 2 hours and several Excel spreadsheet calculations 
later, and I was in a position to realise that this was never going to 
be worth my while and I opted to bin their “Bond” at the very next 
opportunity.

Now a few days later and I found myself at the wheel of my motor car, 
driving along. I was on my way to the establishment at which I work. My 
merry day-dreaming was interrupted by one of those commercial 
advertisements that are sometimes played upon the wireless. It was for 
British Gas and my ears pricked up. Age and years of custard tart abuse 
prevent me from clearly remembering the precise wording of the 
advertisement that was played upon the wireless within my motor car, but 
it was roughly along the following lines.

“Stop what you are doing and pay attention, we are British Gas after 
all. If you aren't a British Gas customer, you jolly well should be. We 
are so good to our loyal customers, just listen to our latest special 
offer.

For centuries now it has been the tradition within our land, that when 
one wished to bestow a gift upon someone, that you presented them with a 
goat. It's a tradition that's lasted for hundreds of years and has been 
passed down from father to son. But we are British Gas. We know better. 
We know what's good for you. Gone are the old ways. We are sweeping away 
centuries of culture and tradition. Oh yes citizens. We have decided not 
to give you anything as worthwhile as a goat. Oh no, because we know 
best, we have decided to send you a worthless scrap of paper, which you 
will from henceforth, refer to, as a “Bond”.

You need do very little else. For if you possess the “Bond” all you 
must do is to try and heat up Belgium and we will send you the 
equivalent of a lighter full of free gas. Oh our generosity is endless. 
You may now all bow down before us in homage and gratitude.”

Well it was words to that effect.

Well needless to say, that I was not impressed with this latest poultry 
marketing offer. And so I decided to communicate my feelings direct to 
British Gas as I was sure that they would want to hear from me, one of 
their aforementioned loyal customers, who was, as it happens, still in 
possession of one their worthless scraps of paper, hitherto referred to, 
as the “Bond”.

Age and many months of squealing in pain at the hands of MissLead, 
prevent me from recalling the precise wording of my letter (I don't hold 
with e-mails, there's something terribly impersonal and Taiwanese about 
them). But this is the thrust of my communication to them.

“Dear British Gas Marketing Department,

I recently had the opportunity to listen attentively to one of your new 
advertisement communications, transmitted to the wireless within my 
motor car. I was on my way to the establishment at which I work. If I am 
to understand the nature of the advertisement which I heard upon the 
wireless that morning, you have decided to completely do away with a 
tradition that is countless centuries old. I refer of course, to the age 
old ritual of the bestowing of a gift, in the form of a goat. In one 
fell swoop, you are eradicating years of culture and tradition. You are 
dishonouring the many generations who since time imememorial have seen 
the goat as a most fitting and suitable gift with which to show favour. 
And I for one do not hold with such dramatic changes. As you will have 
no doubt have noticed, I have returned to you the “Bond”, henceforth 
to be known as “the worthless scrap of paper” and, if it's all the 
same to you, I'd like my goat instead please.

I can wait in on Wednesday, please let me know whether you can deliver 
it in the morning or in the afternoon. My house is easy to spot, it's 
the one without a goat tethered outside.”

Well some time has passed and do you think I've had any response? No of 
course not. I am now beginning to get worried and quite frankly, I fear 
the worst. Several things could have happened. One hears such horror 
stories these days. Has my goat been left in some warehouse by mistake? 
Has it suffered some bizarre delivery van incident? Or more likely, has 
my goat been kidnapped by British Gas employees (or their agents) for 
use in some bizarre British Gas goat ritual? To date there has been no 
ransom demand.

I'm sick with worry and not a little annoyed. I shall wait only a few 
more days.

I shall of course, keep you informed if there are any developments.

Good-bye.

-- 
< Paul >