Friday, 31st March
This one isn't very funny
Today my supervisor turned up, so the holiday's over!
The banks are bastards. Everyone except John Laws knows this, well, you know
what I'm getting at. Here in England the banks are complete arseholes (sorry about
the language Mum) to foreigners. Foreigners like me.
When I first arrived in London I went to a Barclay's branch to find out the go
with setting up a bank account. I carefully wrote down what the bloke told me.
Essentially I needed to get a job in order to get a bank account set up.
So now I have a job. And I have a letter from my employer stating my address.
Just what the bank ordered. Yesterday I did a bit of shopping around on the
Tottenham Court Road. I went to every single bank and found out what was involved
in opening a bank account at each bank.
Some banks are bigger bastards than others. One "customer service officer"
insinuated that I was from New Zealand! Stupid bastard.
Turns out that Barclays have the least requirements when it comes to opening a
bank account, so I went in to Barclays. The plump woman I spoke to was insistent
that the letter I had from my employer was not enough. She was quite short with
me. I uttered something extremely rude under my breath as I left the branch.
That afternoon I rang the temp agency to tell them what had happened, and my
mate Tracey told me that I had the right letter and the bank was in the wrong.
So this morning I marched back down to the bank and they insisted that the
letter had to be addressed to the bank. Bah! Nit-picking!
Lunchtime was spent speeding around London to the temp agency to collect another
copy of this bloody letter then back to the bank. Finally I met their
requirements. Hurrah! Then they tell me there are no bank fees.
As a side note, the manager of that branch is called Finbar McSweeney. Really,
he is. What were his parents thinking? They weren't thinking, that's what.
Back to the Dawes Road Palace...
Jules' girlfriend rang while he was having his weekly shower. When he was out
I said "Yer sheila rang." "My what?" "Sorry, your bird rang." "Oh right."
Private school boys, bah!
Tonight I experienced the British Supermarket. I went there to buy some
fettucine and a focaccia. They had spaghetti and white bread. But there is a
whole aisle of beans! I Am Not Making This Up.
Upon returning from the supermarket, I thought I'd have a look at what's on
Loads of crap, mostly, but I managed to waste an entire evening trawling from
channel to channel.