Oh, Virgin. Richard Branston-Pickle, with his embarrassing shenanigans, is clearly a compelling leader.
My father died at the end of June this year. Throughout July, my family and I wrote to each and every institution and company that figured on his bank statements and whose letters plopped through the door. Virgin was one of the first to go.
But now they've written to him, clearly unfettered by his demise:
"Dear Mr B,
"We know you're not with us anymore, but we thought you might like to hear about our best offer ever..."
He always liked a bargain, my dad. But as they rightly acknowledge, he's not with us anymore.
Dispatches from the domestic frontline
Showing posts with label pratfalls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pratfalls. Show all posts
Wednesday, 17 September 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)