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"You never know how good a service is until you actually need it. My story is sad and long, and as tragic as it is funny. Gather round boys and girls while I tell you the sad, gentle and heartfelt tale of "The Jaguar XF and bastard fucking bastard incompetent bastard RAC fucking bastard organisation wankers". . . It was a gorgeous, hot, sunny Thursday on the beautiful sandy beach in Bournemouth with the sea glistening in the sunlight. My brother-in-law and I had driven down from West London to spend a lovely day ogling gorgeous young girls in bikinis, like the 2 deeply disturbing dirty old men we are. We eventually changed out of our bikinis and into the tried and tested budgie smugglers, and the supermarket cucumbers were accentuating very nicely. By the end of the day the cucumbers had wilted under the heat and started smelling so we called it a day. By 5.30pm We had got back to the car park, paid the outrageous fee for parking, and pressed the start button. The Jaaaag roared into life. It's knob rose up gracefully, ready for action, and I caressed it gently, and much joy was promised. Unfortunately, at that moment, the Jag suffered a bout of anxiety and, like a virgin boy at a gangbang, it's knob failed to perform. The Jaaaaaaag was was stuck in park and refused to do its thang. A phone call to the bastard wanking fucking RAC and endless option 1, option 2 button presses later, the dominatrix on the phone said that someone has been assigned to attend the threesome, erm, I mean vehicle. Excellent. We'll be home in time for tea and biscuits. The fucking bastard RAC wankers will save the day and won't let us down faster than a single guy promising to attend a threesome after all. Hurrah After this I quickly discovered that communication and information from this fine specimen of a National breakdown service ranges between abysmal and totally absent. Long waits for any kind of updates. Being left in the dark for ages as to what's happening. Having to Navigate a maze of phone options every time I tried to speak to someone. After a 2 hour wait they helpfully decided that my issue wouldn't be able to be fixed, so they cancelled the call-out van, (mr 8 inch fuckmaster), and went straight to recovery option. Thunderbirds are go, and as the palm trees parted on Tracy Island. . . Ahem, wrong story . . . 2 hours later . . . I had to phone dominatrix for an update, several option 1 and 2 button presses later I helpfully reminded her for about he 3rd time that I am on level 5 of a multi storey car park, and she finally realised that a recovery lorry, (Mr 12 inch pussydestroyer) wouldn't fit inside, (ooer missus, that really was wishful thinking), and they would need the call-out van, Mr 8 inch fuckmaster, after all,to come out to help get the car out of the car park using skates. Move over Torvill and Dean, the Bolero is about to start. Another 2 hours later, they realised that getting 2 players to the orgy at the same time wasn't as easy as it should be. It wasn't going to happen that night, (sound familiar anyone?), so they would put us up in a hotel for the night, with pampas grass and pineapples filling the luxurious front lady garden. All this time we had to wait near the car because we had no idea, throughout the whole process, when someone would arrive. (Just like a cuckold couple waiting for their first single guy to turn up and show the husband what a real man with a real cock can do to his precious wife's pussy). Luckily there was a bar over the road we could have drink but we couldn't really order a proper meal just in case someone turned up. We ended up eating chips and chicken wings sitting in the car at 10pm, like the sad pathetic loosers we had become. (Charging my phone because it had got down to 8 percent charge and the last thing I needed was a dead phone as well as a faulty knob). Some time after midnight they told me they couldn't find a hotel within 30 miles because they had all been booked by hopeful couples, and instead they would send us home in a taxi and recover the car later in the morning. Of course we have now crossed over into Friday morning and neither of us had seen any real action, (just like a typical single guy at a swingers club). We eventuality reached home to Hounslow at 3.30am (90 mile trip) tired and disappointed. (So nothing new there then). I woke at 8am and by 9am I received a text message to say the players will attend to recover the car at 10am. That time got changed to 11am. Finally they picked it up at about 3.30pm. They didn't actually call or message to tell me that, I had to press lots of options and ask dominatrix what the hell was going on. I have things to do, people to see, orgies to attend. I'm a mover and shaker and I need my Jaaaaaaaaaaag to get me there. At 5pm, I got a text to say that the recovery is now complete. This was totally unexpected because my car hadn't arrived. It's a bit like premature ejaculation, feels great for the fucker, (erm, apparently), but a total anticlimax for the one being fucked. I finally got to speak to a sub who said that the car has been delivered. I told her ohhhhh no it hasn't. She said ohhhhh yes it has. I said ohhhhhhhhhh no it bloody well hasn't and you had better sort it out. She said she would escalate the issue to her owner and he would call me back. He never called. (They never do). So basically I had waited at home all day Friday, (and I got my neighbour to park his car in the space outside my house to make sure it would be available when my car arrived), only to be let down like the newbie couple who . . . Ohhhh you know how it goes by now. Anyway, the next morning, (yesterday), I called them and they told me they have lost the car, the issue would be escalated, and someone would call me back. Lol To be fair someone did actually call me back within the hour. So yes there are some genuine ones out there in the sea of single males. They had found the car, it's in storage waiting for onward journey, they are waiting for an availabile transport vehicle and the car should be delivered later in the afternoon. Hurrah. Ron Jeremy you shall go to the gangbang after all. Those bloody marvellous chaps at the at the wonderful fucking bastard wanking RAC are going to save the day after all. 2 days late but better late than never, said the actress to the Bishop. Then later in the afternoon they called and said, it's really busy, they can't find a lorry to shaft, erm I mean "shift" the Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaag and that they won't be able to come to fuck my wife today as they promised they would. Bottom line is that they won't actually be able to get my Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaag to my house until Monday morning!!! Seriously WTF !!! Sorry wifey dear, it looks like you will have to endure your pathetic husband with his tiny cock for yet another night. Mr 12 inch wonderfuck isn't cumming today. I know what the issue is with my car, and Mr Google says I can fix my broken knob in about 2 hours with some mechanical viagra equivalent. I just wish they would turn up as they promised. Sound familiar? I need to try and find someone more reliable. Any suggestions? " Get a private recovery company to collect it and charge it to the RAC for failure to deliver the promised service. I got stuck in my van in the wilds of Hampshire a couple of years ago in the dark, freezing cold,no food waiting for 12 hrs just for some bellend to turn up and say they needed a bigger truck. Then waited a further 3 hrs. | |||
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"You never know how good a service is until you actually need it. My story is sad and long, and as tragic as it is funny. Gather round boys and girls while I tell you the sad, gentle and heartfelt tale of "The Jaguar XF and bastard fucking bastard incompetent bastard RAC fucking bastard organisation wankers". . . It was a gorgeous, hot, sunny Thursday on the beautiful sandy beach in Bournemouth with the sea glistening in the sunlight. My brother-in-law and I had driven down from West London to spend a lovely day ogling gorgeous young girls in bikinis, like the 2 deeply disturbing dirty old men we are. We eventually changed out of our bikinis and into the tried and tested budgie smugglers, and the supermarket cucumbers were accentuating very nicely. By the end of the day the cucumbers had wilted under the heat and started smelling so we called it a day. By 5.30pm We had got back to the car park, paid the outrageous fee for parking, and pressed the start button. The Jaaaag roared into life. It's knob rose up gracefully, ready for action, and I caressed it gently, and much joy was promised. Unfortunately, at that moment, the Jag suffered a bout of anxiety and, like a virgin boy at a gangbang, it's knob failed to perform. The Jaaaaaaag was was stuck in park and refused to do its thang. A phone call to the bastard wanking fucking RAC and endless option 1, option 2 button presses later, the dominatrix on the phone said that someone has been assigned to attend the threesome, erm, I mean vehicle. Excellent. We'll be home in time for tea and biscuits. The fucking bastard RAC wankers will save the day and won't let us down faster than a single guy promising to attend a threesome after all. Hurrah After this I quickly discovered that communication and information from this fine specimen of a National breakdown service ranges between abysmal and totally absent. Long waits for any kind of updates. Being left in the dark for ages as to what's happening. Having to Navigate a maze of phone options every time I tried to speak to someone. After a 2 hour wait they helpfully decided that my issue wouldn't be able to be fixed, so they cancelled the call-out van, (mr 8 inch fuckmaster), and went straight to recovery option. Thunderbirds are go, and as the palm trees parted on Tracy Island. . . Ahem, wrong story . . . 2 hours later . . . I had to phone dominatrix for an update, several option 1 and 2 button presses later I helpfully reminded her for about he 3rd time that I am on level 5 of a multi storey car park, and she finally realised that a recovery lorry, (Mr 12 inch pussydestroyer) wouldn't fit inside, (ooer missus, that really was wishful thinking), and they would need the call-out van, Mr 8 inch fuckmaster, after all,to come out to help get the car out of the car park using skates. Move over Torvill and Dean, the Bolero is about to start. Another 2 hours later, they realised that getting 2 players to the orgy at the same time wasn't as easy as it should be. It wasn't going to happen that night, (sound familiar anyone?), so they would put us up in a hotel for the night, with pampas grass and pineapples filling the luxurious front lady garden. All this time we had to wait near the car because we had no idea, throughout the whole process, when someone would arrive. (Just like a cuckold couple waiting for their first single guy to turn up and show the husband what a real man with a real cock can do to his precious wife's pussy). Luckily there was a bar over the road we could have drink but we couldn't really order a proper meal just in case someone turned up. We ended up eating chips and chicken wings sitting in the car at 10pm, like the sad pathetic loosers we had become. (Charging my phone because it had got down to 8 percent charge and the last thing I needed was a dead phone as well as a faulty knob). Some time after midnight they told me they couldn't find a hotel within 30 miles because they had all been booked by hopeful couples, and instead they would send us home in a taxi and recover the car later in the morning. Of course we have now crossed over into Friday morning and neither of us had seen any real action, (just like a typical single guy at a swingers club). We eventuality reached home to Hounslow at 3.30am (90 mile trip) tired and disappointed. (So nothing new there then). I woke at 8am and by 9am I received a text message to say the players will attend to recover the car at 10am. That time got changed to 11am. Finally they picked it up at about 3.30pm. They didn't actually call or message to tell me that, I had to press lots of options and ask dominatrix what the hell was going on. I have things to do, people to see, orgies to attend. I'm a mover and shaker and I need my Jaaaaaaaaaaag to get me there. At 5pm, I got a text to say that the recovery is now complete. This was totally unexpected because my car hadn't arrived. It's a bit like premature ejaculation, feels great for the fucker, (erm, apparently), but a total anticlimax for the one being fucked. I finally got to speak to a sub who said that the car has been delivered. I told her ohhhhh no it hasn't. She said ohhhhh yes it has. I said ohhhhhhhhhh no it bloody well hasn't and you had better sort it out. She said she would escalate the issue to her owner and he would call me back. He never called. (They never do). So basically I had waited at home all day Friday, (and I got my neighbour to park his car in the space outside my house to make sure it would be available when my car arrived), only to be let down like the newbie couple who . . . Ohhhh you know how it goes by now. Anyway, the next morning, (yesterday), I called them and they told me they have lost the car, the issue would be escalated, and someone would call me back. Lol To be fair someone did actually call me back within the hour. So yes there are some genuine ones out there in the sea of single males. They had found the car, it's in storage waiting for onward journey, they are waiting for an availabile transport vehicle and the car should be delivered later in the afternoon. Hurrah. Ron Jeremy you shall go to the gangbang after all. Those bloody marvellous chaps at the at the wonderful fucking bastard wanking RAC are going to save the day after all. 2 days late but better late than never, said the actress to the Bishop. Then later in the afternoon they called and said, it's really busy, they can't find a lorry to shaft, erm I mean "shift" the Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaag and that they won't be able to come to fuck my wife today as they promised they would. Bottom line is that they won't actually be able to get my Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaag to my house until Monday morning!!! Seriously WTF !!! Sorry wifey dear, it looks like you will have to endure your pathetic husband with his tiny cock for yet another night. Mr 12 inch wonderfuck isn't cumming today. I know what the issue is with my car, and Mr Google says I can fix my broken knob in about 2 hours with some mechanical viagra equivalent. I just wish they would turn up as they promised. Sound familiar? I need to try and find someone more reliable. Any suggestions? " Used them twice this year, both times excellent service 🤷🏻 | |||
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