Local mechanic likes ladyboys

I hate taking my car to the garage.

It's worse than going to the dentist. It's worse than going to the hospital. In fact I would rather go to hospital and have my teeth removed by the porter in the store cupboard using a pair of rusty old pliers and a crowbar, with the only anaesthetic being a shitty rag in my mouth. Then take my car to the garage.

My car was due it's annual MOT. The annual ritual that all motorist's with used cars hate. The annual ritual that all motorists are made to endure so that your heap of Mad Max death metal is allowed to drive up and down the highways, spewing it's arse farting, climate changing poison. Causing acid rain to then pour down and rot your heap of metal even more so it fails the MOT.

It's a vicious circle.

The day came. I drove to my local garage. The pissed off faced couldn't be arsed manager took my keys, glanced at my car and instantly smiled a "this will pay for my holiday to Thailand to bum ladyboys" and gladly said "we will call you with a cost for the repairs."

Amazingly he knew by just looking at my car it would fail.

Clever bloke.

I walked away. Key less, car less and clueless as to what the repairs would be or cost. I glanced back over my shoulder and noticed the manager still smiling, now looking at the wall calendar of an exotic beach scene, whilst punching his grubby fingers at a keyboard, typing up an inflated invoice for a poor customer victim.

Bastards. 

I waited for the call. It never came. No news is good news. It was like waiting for the hospital to call to say your wife has dropped a sprog and all is fine. It was more like waiting for the garage to call and say your car has dropped a gearbox and will cost a world cruise to fix. Plus VAT. 

I gave in. I called them. 

The manager answered. I could hear him tapping away profusely on his keyboard, banging out another large inflated invoice. I presume he was again thinking about those ladyboys. 

"Ah yes, your car. I'm afraid it's failed the MOT." 

I think I heard him snigger. Or he may have ejaculated. I will never know. 

"Oh right" I said. "go on then, tell me the good news." Hoping it failed on something small, meaningless that would be fixed in 5 minutes and wouldn't cost me anything. 

"It failed on....." He paused. Like on a game show host. Like he was about to announce the prize money. His prize money. 

The cock spanner. 

".....rear near side shock, rear off side damper, front near shock, rear off side damper, sticking rear brakes. We may be able to unstick those, but they are usually unstickable so may have to replace as a pair. Same with the dampers and springs, replace as pairs." 

He paused. I think he sniggered. Or ejaculated. It may have been both.

"Blimey that sounds expensive." I said. Shit. I said the word "expensive." He now knew I was expecting it to be expensive. 

"Hmm....well.....about £850 plus VAT, or if we unstick those unstickable brakes we could reduce that cost to £650'ish plus VAT. Oh and the car is in pieces so you will have to pay so we can finish the job." 

Fuck. I knew it. I was paying for his ladyboy bang a thong holiday to Thailand. 

"Ok, I have no choice then do it? Please do the work and lets hope that you manage to unstick those unstickable brakes so I only pay the cheaper price. Yeah?" 

"Will do. Will call you once all done." He hung up. 

The call never came. I called. I collected it. I paid the higher price. I paid for sexual abuse in Thailand. 

It was only when I got home that I noticed the state of the car. It was filthy. Oily finger prints all over the outside, the dashboard, the steering wheel, the gear knob, handbrake, door handle. Even over the contents of the glove box. The outside of the car was dented and the door scratched. 

The dirty, uncaring bastards. 

I called to complain and was told the manager had gone home and to call back tomorrow.

I sent an email. I went into extreme detail about the poor experience and the condition of my car. The owner of the garage emailed a reply. The manager was now on holiday for 2 weeks and they will speak with him on his return and come back to me. He obviously went to Thailand. He was quick. Yeah, I bet he is. 

Three weeks later I got a reply.

They apologised. The mechanic should have taken more care. As compensation I was offered to book my car in with the local illegal immigrant car wash for a full valet. 

Ok, I could live with that. A full £12 valet as compensation for paying £850 plus VAT. Fantastic. The ungenerous bastards. 

I drove in. The yellow teeth, sweaty handed, unshaven, just off a boat look bloke came out off the rusty container office and greeted me. 

"Ah yes, we have been expecting you." 

Ooh, VIP treatment. Maybe I will receive a free air freshener. 

"You have come for the free steering wheel valet, yes?" His breath smelled of car shampoo. 
"Er, yeah and the rest of the car please." I said with a nervous smile. Thinking he was some sort of illegal comedian. 

"No just the steering wheel. A full steering valet. I took the call from the garage myself. I even wrote it down, here. A FULL STEERING VALET." 

I looked at the note. I looked at him. Shampoo foam on his face like a bukkake porn extra. 

"I can clean the fucking steering myself with a sneeze. It's supposed to be a full valet." I said, thinking perhaps it was a break down in communication. I mean, "full valet" does sound like "full steering wheel valet" if you have shampoo in your ears. 

"WANKERS." I shouted as I walked off. 

I didn't take them up on their generous offer of a full steering valet. I didn't hang around to see if they also offered a full gear knob valet, or a glove box valet, or a full door knob valet. 

The cock womble, arse fingering, oily rag, broke back mountain cowboys. 

A fucking steering wheel valet. I never even knew that existed. Not just a clean, but a full steering wheel valet. I wondered how long that would take. I'm setting up business as a full steering wheel valet. Ten seconds with a tooth brush and a wet wipe. £10 please. 

Fuckers. 

I emailed the garage. I never heard back. I left a fantastic glowing review for them on their site. When I say glowing, I copied and pasted this blog post. 

I hope they go out of business and have to re-establish themselves as a "FULL STEERING WHEEL VALET" company. 

I also sent them a pack of wet wipes and a tooth brush.