Dear the Condor Ferries,
I am a great admirer of your services, and have had some fantastic times aboard your flotilla over the years. Who can forget the time we sailed through the Battle of Trafalgar? I still have the shrapnel scars as a keepsake. I think my all time favourite was the Battle of Jutland, sadly my car went overboard that day, but the travel insurance covered it. Shame about the bridge taking a shell and the captain buying it, but that’s the risk you take on these sea battle tours. But brilliant memories aside, I am writing to have a bit of a moan I’m afraid.
I was due to sail on one of your ferries from Jersey to Guernsey on Friday 18th September 2015, and sadly due to a technical fault we were delayed (no doubt the ferry got torpedoed during the Battle of the Atlantic tour) for several hours whilst repairs were carried out. During this time I had a most unfortunate experience which has lead me to write this letter to you.
After your staff kindly announced we got free coffee for our inconvenience, I joined a large and rather violent rush to the coffee shop to make the most of this gesture of goodwill. During this rush I’m ashamed to admit I battered an old lady to a bloody pulp with her zimmer frame. This was in retaliation to her blood curdling war cry and charge with her handbag held aloft to get to the front of the queue. This was all self defence you understand.
Anyway I reached the coffee shop and got my complimentary coffee. As I stumbled my way through the field of bodies back to my seat, I was approached by a strange and decrepit old man, who offered me five magic beans in exchange for my coffee. Naturally I jumped at the chance and made the transaction. This is where things got a bit strange.
Conveniently my seat was next to a potted plant, and as I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, I proceeded to rip the plant out of the soil and plant these magic beans to help pass the time. Almost immediately a shoot sprung from the soil and began to grow at a rapid pace. Climbing higher and higher, the shoot burst through the glass roof of the ferry terminal and rocketed into the sky.
This seemed odd to me, and with some curiosity I approached it. A random man started talking gardening to me, but as my horticultural knowledge is virtually nil, I kindly said to him “Piss off and mind your own business.” Bear in mind, I was fresh from battle with the OAP equivalent of Braveheart, so my patience was somewhat lacking.
At the foot of the mammoth plant I glared up to see if I could see the summit, which sadly was concealed in the clouds.
Being the adventurous type I decided to ascend the plant in a vain hope of passing a bit of time whilst the ferry’s torpedo damage was being fixed. Up and up it went, I climbed for a good hour before reaching the clouds.
I had a good look round and low and behold, there was bugger all there, so I decided to climb back down again. As I began my descent, a deep booming voice beckoned me to come back to the top, so I did. I was, of course, still cream crackered from the climb so a chance to have a bit of a break with a random cloud based stranger was a welcome offer.
On my return to the summit I was surprised to see that a bar had appeared in the clouds. This of course was a blinding result. I saw a man standing at the bar, “Are you God?” I asked him for some reason best known to myself.
“Of course I’m not God you bloody idiot.” the strange cloud based barman said, “Do I look like a storybook character?”
Opting not to press further on this highly controversial remark, I went on to ask who he was.
“Name’s Frank, I’ve been working up here since I stupidly bought some magic beans from an old guy at the Jersey ferry terminal.” He said whilst pouring out a pint. “I’m guessing you’re here for the same reason?”
I confirmed this was the case and proceeded to drink the beer he had poured me.
“Sorry its a bit warm, bloody cellar is not as cold as it should be. Bloody global warming isn’t helping the temperatures up here so the cellar and, of course, the beer is suffering.”
This troubled me greatly as beer is the blood of the earth. Warm beer caused by global warming was something that is not reported down on terra ferma, it seems to focus mainly on polar bears, the selfish bastards. I decided this needed addressing, and addressing now!
I descended the plant and proceeded to check the current situation with the ferry.
“Still broke” said the attendant, so I set about trying to contact the relevant people to sort this global warming thing out. I called directory enquiries and asked to be put through to Barack Obama, you know, the king of Americaland.
After a pleasant chat with him, he agreed to pop over to Jersey to see the situation for himself. A considerable time later, Airforce One touched down at Jersey airport and King Barack popped over to the ferry terminal where I was still waiting for the boat to be fixed.
“What’up man, its me b-dog. What’s happenin’?” King Barack said to me on his arrival to which I responded I had no idea what he just said.
Upon translation I wished him a good afternoon and pointed him in the direction of the big plant thing.
King Barack was up the plant for a good couple of hours, and returned rather bleary eyed and smelling of booze.
*Hick* “I see the problem is a lot more badderer than we all *hick* thought… I’ll get on the phone” said King Barack in a rather sozzled voice.
He went about phoning every G7 leader, except Putin for some reason or another, inviting them all over to see Frank at his bar.
So 5 of the 6 other G7 leaders turned up at various times and climbed the plant, each one of them coming back down hammered and agreeing that global warming needed sorting. I thanked them for their time and waved them out of the ferry terminal.
Angela Merkel was a touch frisky on the way out but thankfully she was whisked away before it got too raunchy.
I once again checked on the ferry situation, and the Condor minion tapped away at their machine, and after about five minutes they looked up and said “still broke”, so I again climbed the plant thing to see Frank.
Once I reached Frank, he came across as an extraordinarily happy man.
“Well bugger me sideways, I made a small fortune from that little influx, thanks for that.” He said, whilst pouring me another beer. “I gather all is good down there?”
I explained to him that all of the leaders seemed to be in favour of sorting this global warming lark out, and that the sky bars beer should chill soon. I asked Frank how he got on with all of the leaders, to which he replied.
“Fine, the only one I struggled with was that Cameron feller, what a bloody tight arse he was!” I decided after several beers to go back down the plant, and invited Frank to join me.
“Sorry pal, I’ve been down a number of times before. I seem to have a knack of getting a job and buggering it up somehow, so I stay here.” He said, whilst cleaning his pump (excuse the pun).
At the bottom of the plant, I sat down and continued to wait. I fell asleep after a few minutes and got awoken by a strange man who spoke in some sort of Victorian verse, informing me we were finally boarding the ferry. Strangely the plant and pot had vanished. After 24 hours waiting, I was finally on my way to Guernsey to continue my holiday.
Take that global warming.
So to summarise, I am writing to ask if you could ensure orderly behaviour when offering free coffee on delayed ferry crossings.
Major Lee Pistov