The Old Brewery
High Street
Tadcaster
North Yorkshire
LS24 9SB
The Greyhound, Killinghall, Harrogate, North Yorkshire
Dear sir / madam,
I have been a regular patron of this above pub since mid 1998 and things have been going from bad to worse. This started with a nymphomaniac called Emma and a chef, I use the term loosely, Matthew who struggled to reheat a tin of soup. Since this 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 issues - 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.
Patrick and Lisa the toothless wonder and smack head, currently facing charges of growing cannabis. For a start my problem with this gruesome twosome, two large breed powerful dogs wonder around the bar whilst other, shocked and outraged patrons sit by. All hoping that the big one doesn?t cock his leg.
I feel that your pure determination to get the pub doors open, regardless of references, if you even bother to ask for them is running the place into the ground. Coupled with the delightful cuisine on offer, e-coli on a plate for main followed by a nice poo poo platter, red ring syndrome the following morning me thinks.
Anyhow I digress from my point, this pair (of what I am unsure) were having lock ins, children running rampage. However one thing that I must support was the fact we were able to smoke in the bar, as a paying customer and a smoker it was nice to put the middle finger up to good old Humphrey.
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 dialing tone. Forgive me, therefore, if I continue.
We now have Paul and Andrea, although Paul is a very nice person, I feel the dragged through a hedge backwards look is slightly inappropriate. Andrea is magic, I have never seen someone disappear as quickly, as soon as there is a bit of work to be done.
On Friday the 5th September 2008, we had a new worker, with great intrigue we regulars paid particular attention to this fine specimen. The mental capacity of an oxygen starved mushroom coupled with the fact he was drunk as a skunk. However I was slightly impressed with his ability to have a pi** up in a Sam Smiths brewery, when the hierarchy of the company, for which this should be their job, seem unable to find their arse with both hands.
There is a lovely Staffordshire Bull Terrier bounding around the pub ( the sort of dog that eats children in Liverpool ). This little chap seems to be downstairs all day, whether food is being served or not ( mainly not, have you tasted the filth you provide). We then have cigarette butts splayed all over the car park, accompanied by dog muck and crisp packets. May I add this is a respectful country village and not the Bronx! Where I feel, this rabble would be made king and queen of half wits and tramps.
Just as an end point I would like to say that the pub has been reported, in writing ( this means the council must visit your establishment) to the local authority environmental health.
Good day to you all, I look forward to your actions
Regards
Claude Balls