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Legoland. Foundations on sand

Here's a cut and paste from today's Financial Times. This article doens't cover the full story, but you get the (bitter) flavour of Legland's incompetence.

On the plus side, one man, a Bluenose, has battled until he's forced changes. Legoland now have to replace their ticketing system.

A misfit at Legoland over bar codes MUDLARK - CLAY HARRIS.

By CLAY HARRIS
462 words
30 April 2005
Financial Times
London Ed1
Page 4
English
(c) 2005 The Financial Times Limited. All rights reserved

If you're planning a trip to Legoland at Windsor over the bank holiday weekend, keep in mind the experience of Colin Harris and his family during the Easter holidays. When Harris, an IT business consultant from the West Midlands, tried to enter the park, he was told two of his seven tickets were invalid because they had "already been used".

This came as a shock to Harris (no relation). He had kept the tickets securely at his home since buying them in January. Legoland claimed that one adult ticket and one child's ticket had been used on separate days in March. It would not let the party enter until Harris paid Pounds 40.60 for extra tickets. After the long trip, and with children keen to see the park, what else could he do?

After e-mail exchanges, Legoland refused to accept that it could have made any error. On Tuesday, the PA to Legoland's managing director revealed in an e-mail: "The bar codes used today are what are known in the industry as 1D bar codes, which unfortunately allows them to be copied. However, we will be introducing 2D bar codes which will not allow tickets to be copied."

She added: "Based on the information that we have from our ticketing system, the tickets, or a copy of the tickets, were used on the days and times specified."

Hans Aksel Pedersen, sales and marketing director for Legoland at Windsor, told the FT: "This is obviously a very serious matter for us and having liaised with our ticket system provider, we now believe there has been a breach of security in the fulfilment process. This could have occurred any time from when the tickets were printed at the park until they were delivered to Mr Harris's home address."

He said Legoland was "undertaking a full review of the park's side of the fulfilment process and will take the necessary steps to ensure that this situation is not repeated." Legoland was "aware that the bar codes on entrance tickets can be photocopied, just like all other bar codes".

Mr Pedersen added: "Our ticketing system ensures that each ticket bar code is unique. Once the bar code has been scanned, the system will not accept it a further time so tickets can only be used once." One bar-code expert consulted by the FT thought it was not likely that a photocopier could reproduce bar codes to the necessary resolution.

Legoland is offering Harris a Pounds 40.60 refund and seven free vouchers. He has little appetite for a return visit so is giving away the tickets through his local paper.

PSB
posted by kwacky at 9:29 am

 


create your own visited countries map
or vertaling Duits Nederlands
posted by kwacky at 9:23 am

 
Bring on the bling!

New Beringer Discs and Jack Lilley underslung caliper holder.








posted by kwacky at 6:17 pm

 
Below is a copy of a letter that won a competition in UK as complaint letter of the year.

Complaint Letter of the Year. The British do have a way with words.... A real-life customer complaint letter sent to NTL (to their complaints dept....)


Dear Cretins,

I have been an NTL customer since 9th July 2001, when I signed up for your 3-in-one deal for cable TV, cable modem, and telephone. During this three-month period I have encountered inadequacy of service which I had not previously considered possible, as well as ignorance and stupidity of monolithic proportions. Please allow me to provide specific details, so that you can either pursue your professional prerogative, and seek to rectify these difficulties - or more likely (I suspect) so that you can have some entertaining reading material as you while away the working day smoking B&H and drinking vendor-coffee on the bog in your office:

My initial installation was cancelled without warning, resulting in my spending an entire Saturday sitting on my fat arse waiting for your technician to arrive. When he did not arrive, I spent a further 57 minutes listening to your infuriating hold music, and the even more annoying Scottish robot woman telling me to look at your helpful website....HOW?

I alleviated the boredom by playing with my testicles for a few minutes - an activity at which you are no-doubt both familiar and highly adept. The rescheduled installation then took place some two weeks later, although the technician did forget to bring a number of vital tools - such as a drill-bit, and his cerebrum. Two weeks later, my cable modem had still not arrived. After 15 telephone calls over 4 weeks my modem arrived... six weeks after I had requested it, and begun to pay for it.

I estimate your internet server's downtime is roughly 35%... hours between about 6pm -midnight, Mon-Fri, and most of the weekend. I am still waiting for my telephone connection. I have made 9 calls on my mobile to your no-help line, and have been unhelpfully transferred to a variety of disinterested individuals, who are it seems also highly skilled bollock jugglers.

I have been informed that a telephone line is available (and someone
will call me back); that no telephone line is available (and someone will call me back); that I will be transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been cut off); that I will be transferred to someone (and then been redirected to an answer machine informing me that your office is closed); that I will be transferred to someone and then been redirected to the irritating Scottish robot woman...and several other variations on this theme.

Doubtless you are no longer reading this letter, as you have at least a thousand other dissatisfied customers to ignore, and also another one of those crucially important testicle-moments to attend to. Frankly I don't care; it's far more satisfying as a customer to voice my frustrations in print than to shout them at your unending hold music. Forgive me, therefore, if I continue.

I thought BT were shit, that they had attained the holy piss-pot of god-awful customer relations, that no-one, anywhere, ever, could be more disinterested, less helpful or more obstructive to delivering service to their customers. That's why I chose NTL, and because, well, there isn't anyone else is there? How surprised I therefore was, when I discovered to my considerable dissatisfaction and disappointment what a useless shower of bastards you truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of distended rectum incompetents of the highest order.

British Telecom - wankers though they are - shine like brilliant beacons of success, in the filthy puss-filled mire of your seemingly limitless inadequacy. Suffice to say that I have now given up on my futile and foolhardy quest to receive any kind of service from you. I suggest that you cease any potential future attempts to extort payment from me for the services which you have so pointedly and catastrophically failed to deliver - any such activity will be greeted initially with hilarity and disbelief quickly be replaced by derision, and even perhaps bemused rage. I enclose two small deposits, selected with great care from my cats litter tray, as an expression of my utter and complete contempt for both you and your pointless company. I sincerely hope that they have not become desiccated during transit - they were satisfyingly moist at the time of posting, and I would feel considerable disappointment if you did not experience both their rich aroma and delicate texture. Consider them the very embodiment of my feelings towards NTL, and its worthless employees.

Have a nice day - may it be the last in your miserable short life, you irritatingly incompetent and infuriatingly unhelpful bunch of twats.


D. Macintyre
posted by kwacky at 6:42 pm

 
Just ignore these, I'm hosting them here to post on another site




posted by kwacky at 7:06 pm

 

posted by kwacky at 4:30 pm

 
Hillsborough

The game was stopped and the players slowly left the field, unaware like all of us, of the carnage which was unfolding. The realisation that we were witnessing a living nightmare came when we saw two young lads stretched out behind the goal in their red Football tops, being given the kiss of life. Many walked dazed and confused stopping only to kneel and vomit. Some had dark wet stains on their pants where they’d urinated with fear. “Something bad’s happening here lad, something really bad’s happening I can feel it. “ Alan said [A friend of Dave Kirby]. He was voicing something we all felt, but were too frightened to admit. The churning in my stomach was becoming intense. Some of us moved down towards the fence, where the sound of people screaming and pleading for help became unbearable. The despair of hearing the death cry of innocent people, mainly children, weeping as they reach out to you to save their lives, is the most painful and harrowing sound which could ever be unleashed on a human being. The vexation at being unable to help them served only to augment the pain and distress to levels which go way beyond normality, cutting deep into the mind and soul. We were now near the front peering through the bars just a few yards from the pitch. Fans who’d escaped onto the pitch were now breaking up advertising hoardings, using them as makeshift stretches. These people acted in a manner known in army terms as ‘services above and beyond the call of duty.’ One after the other they placed the bodies of dead and injured fans onto the boards then raced along the length of the pitch to the gymnasium situated underneath the North stand. The noise of ambulance sirens from the surrounding streets added to the mayhem. Just then only a few yards from where we stood, the body of a man no more than 40 years old was placed down on the pitch. As long as I live I’ll never forget him. His eyes were open, but lifeless. His black hair was wet and matted to his scalp. He wore a red Liverpool jersey with light blue denim jeans which were undone and pulled down slightly below his plump middle. Both shoes were also missing. The two men who placed him down were of a similar age. One tried desperately to revive him with mouth to mouth resuscitation while the other held his pale hand and wept. It was obvious to all but his two friends that he was dead. That lad tried so hard to bring him back to life, pleading with him to wake up in between kisses of life. In a state of complete devastation, he then began thumping and pressing on his chest shouting in tears. “Wake up Kev, please wake up.” The thumping gradually gave way to weak taps, before he rested his head onto the white letters of ‘candy’ which were written across his friends shirt, then broke down. Everyone around that fence cried with him. Like us, those lads probably set off in exuberant mood that morning. Saying goodbye to wives, kids, or parents on their way to simple football match. To be lying on the sun drenched pitch later that day over the lifeless body of a friend or relative must have been the most heart-rending traumatic ordeals imaginable. It was now too much to bare. “I’ve got to get out of here” I said.

The four of us made the decision to leave. As we left Graham asked "What's that smell?" Tom whispered "It's the smell of death, mate, it's the smell of death". And then I vomited. We had a few hours before we had to catch the coach back to London, the original plan was to waste the hours in a pub, hopefully watching Tom and Adi celebrate a Liverpool place in the final, but instead we sat in silence listening to the sirens. When we made it back home to London, I went straight into the shower, I don't know how long I was there, but the water was as cold as ice by the time I became aware of my surroundings again. I slipped into my pyjama's and made my way to Tom's room. I entered slowly, he took one look at me and burst into tears. We both spent that night in each others arms, trying to console each other, trying to come to terms with what we saw and trying to understand why it happened.

posted by kwacky at 8:46 pm

 
Just a quickie

This is a mate of mine (the one flying through the air) at Cadwell. His bike ploughed into the back of another bike. It appears that the throttle twist grip locating pin had snapped allowing this to spin and the throttle cables stopping the brake lever having full movement, hence why he couldnt stop.

The good news is that he's ok. The bad news is that he's £500 out of pocket.

So, if anyone is feeling flush or charitable, I'm sure he would appreciate a donation to help him get back on track. This guy is good so your money won't be wasted.

Adopt a Racer

LittleWood Racing


posted by kwacky at 7:22 pm

 
Bowyer v Dyer



Thanks to Rags for the image.

Does any else think that this whole thing is being blown out of proportion?

In the last 12 months I've seen countless punch ups at Rugby (both codes), cricket, Formula 1, all top level motorbike races, basketball, the list goes on. Now the Sports minister Richard Caborn is saying that it's a sackable offence if you fight in the workplace. Yes, if it was an office or a factory I could understand the boss getting a bit pee'd off. But this is sport. People want to see aggression, spirit, tempers flare. How often do you hear fans say "I wish he had a bit more fight"?

Caborn is worried that this incident sets a poor example to schoolkids and that the incident may be repeated in the play ground. Did he not go to school? Does he not know that kids fight, usually over the silliest things? Kids fight, it's what they do.

What about fights in other sports? Does he not worry that these too will be copied? Should all contact sports be banned just in case our children come home with a couple of bruises and a dented ego?

There's no question in my mind that Bowyer is scum. Racist, low intelligence (as most racists are) knuckle dragging poor white trash scum. Google "lee bowyer"+scum and you'll get more than 1100 hits. Any team who buys him looks for trouble. Maybe Minister Carbon should do more to cure the root problem of the fight, i.e. Bowyer's lack of social skills, racist outlook and inability to control his tempter, than knee jerk into suggesting that both players should be sacked.
posted by kwacky at 8:27 am