When British Airways Destroy Your Luggage

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Ok I’ll keep this brief because I’m not into snipey Facebook status’s where people get to ‘box their gimp’ (Steve Peters analogy) followed by a ‘rant over’ closer. Not into that bullshit. But I am into making people and companies accountable. Especially companies that get so big they become faceless entities. So I’ll make a start.

British Airways decimated my £350 Freitag bag on a flight back from Houston the other month. Shit happens, no one died. When I landed back at Heathrow I had to fill out a couple of forms and was given a number to ring. First off, why do I have to call these arseholes? If I spill another mans pint accidentally, I don’t hand him my card and tell him to call my lawyer. All though that would be a good power move.


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Second off, the number didn’t work. It’s the wrong number on the form, they have a series of other numbers, each of which, aren’t the correct department for my ‘line of enquiry’. This charade goes on for 60p a minute and each poor fella/sheila on the other end gets a quick earful from me about how shitty their service is before I’m sent back to the start, like a retarded game of snakes and ladders.

By the time I get through to someone that is willing to give me a GOD DAMN FUCKING ANSWER I’m told I’m not insured because I was flying in coach. Apparently a convenient new law they’ve just employed meaning if you’re not swinging with the big dicks eating caviar in the horizontal position just 5 feet away, you’re not covered for any insurance on your luggage.

So that’s that. BA have done the equivalent of knocking over my £350 pint and told me to go fuck myself. HA, well what do you do?


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I’ll tell you what you do. I’ll tell you what I have done.

I’ve done a multitude of trips with BA since, made many visits to the BA lounge each time, Business class. (My girls got a bob or two, what are you going to do?).

I fill my hipflask up with Johnnie Walker in the BA lounge every time I fly. I pack the holdall with beer (from the BA lounge). I eat and drink like a damn animal when I’m in the BA lounge. This is what they’ve turned me into. Call me a churlish prick, but I’m all about winning the small battles. Check my blog, I’ve taken more flights than Rod Stewart this month and I’m filling up my hipflask in every airport along the way. This is what you’ve turned me into BA!

They don’t care, they just don’t care! They don’t care about you or me. To be honest, all I wanted was an apology. A heart felt apology. Not something read off the script that feels as empty as my hipflask each time I land back in Heathrow. BA, you started this. Keep the planes in the air and keep the whisky coming, I’ll drink you out from under one flight at a time. Rant over.

Oh shit.


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