Best Ever Complaint Letters

Some funny complaint letters have become world famous.  Here, is a collection of my favorites.  Please send me your suggestions for other complaint letters to be added to the collection. Just use the ‘Contact Dear Customer Relations’ page to get in touch and paste your letter into the email or add a link to the wall on the Dear Customer Relations Facebook page by following the link in the sidebar.

The latest candidate for the best complaint letter ever written, this rant to Ryanair by James Lockley will have you crying with laughter…

A complaint letter to one of the UK’s very worst hotel operators, complimenting them on the tasteless decor, the non-existent maintenance, the mould and bodily fluid stains….  oh, and the frilly smoke detectors!

This remarkable complaint letter is probably the most widely read complaint of all time.  Addressed to Sir Richard Branson, it tells the sorry tale of the culinary disasters on a flight from Mumbai to Heathrow.  Hysterically funny.

All Mr. W from Derby wanted was a piece of pipe to fix the leak under his sink.  A truly hilarious rant to the inept DIY chain featuring a dandruff eating hobbit and a twat by the name of Ken.

A complaint letter that all PMT sufferers (and husbands of PMT sufferers) will relate to, this is a rant about the message on the self-adhesive strip on a panty pad.  Yes, really, and it’s brilliant!

Australia’s largest power company realised that it hasn’t billed John Noble for 18 months and decided it wanted its money.  John wasn’t so keen to part with $1,900!  Off went the complaint letter.

Have you ever tried to get the local bobbies to deal with anti-social behaviour in your area?  It isn’t easy. One citizen got fed up of being ignored and this is his complaint letter.

One of my own letters and the one that really started this whole crazy obsession with complaining. The letter is in the form of a draft magazine article sent to a famous health spa after a truly horrific and very expensive weekend.

A 96 year old woman decides to turn the tables on her bank.  Sadly, not a genuine complaint letter but still a classic nevertheless.

Ever hired a car that was a piece of junk?  A complaint letter to a hire car company that should have tried harder.  Reproduced with kind permission of Scary Duck, Alistair Coleman’s award winning blog.

Another telecoms complaint. From the “Dear Cretins…” at the start to the “..May you rot in hell” at the end, this is a genuine Mr. Angry complaint letter.  Some strong (but very funny) language.

A lengthy rant of a complaint letter to Nick Read, the CEO of Vodafone about being passed from pillar to post by the customer relations department.  Long, but worth reading right to its very funny ending.

18 thoughts on “Best Ever Complaint Letters”

  1. the following is an e-mail I sent to both Network Rail and Crosscountry trains in the UK after the worst moment of my life nearly as bad as when my dad caught me wanking when i was a young lad hope you enjoy and this is entirely true

    (Letter publihsed on the DCR homepage).

    • Thanks for the great letter Dennis which I have immediately published on the DCR homepage. Let us know if CrossCountry reply.

  2. I started writing funny complaint letters and turned them into a blog. I’ve gotten many great responses and a large fan base. Check it out!

    I convinced Chipotle to extend their hours, got free bus tour tickets at locations around the country, received complimentary gift certificates from various restaurants and bars, and added a wine glass to the emoji application to name a few.

    Here’s an example of one I wrote to a tour bus company in Miami. Enjoy!


    I wanted to speak to someone regarding a situation that I encountered on a Miami Big Bus Tour the other day. As I am a broke college student, I had been looking forward to this tour for quite some time and had to save a pretty penny in order to fund your services. I do have to say that your tour is of the finest in the area and allowed me to educate myself on the history of this wonderful city, immerse myself in its culture, and catch some rays along the way. However, there was a specific instance that I want to bring to your attention regarding hazardous palm trees that interfered with my trip. Five minutes into the ride, I was caught off-guard by a palm tree branch that nearly decapitated me while traveling 25-30 mph. It was a rather startling experience and by the time I recovered from the first hit, I got attacked for a second time. Repeatedly, this kept occurring, as though I was being beat or punished for getting on the bus. I was trying my hardest to learn about the historic architecture and Jewish memorials that were built upon Miami’s sacred grounds, but I simply couldn’t focus, as I had to play defense for the remaining miles to come. This torture occurred to me because I unknowingly chose a seat on the farthest left side of the bus. If I had been warned ahead of time, I could have easily manipulated my sister into taking that seat, and there wouldn’t have been a problem. At the time, I was oblivious to this fact and and am now leaving my vacation with battle wounds while she returns home with the flawless tan. In order to fix this problem and prevent others from acquiring this unforeseen palm tree paranoia that I now suffer with, I have provided you with a few recommendations:
    Trim all palm trees within the five mile tour zone on Collins Ave.
    Provide protective head gear and eye wear for all passengers sitting on the farthest left side of the bus
    I am not a scientist, but growth hormones to extend the height of the palm trees is probably a possibility if not now, in the near future
    Provide me with some sort of refund or souvenir for undergoing this unpleasant experience
    Although I had this unfortunate experience, I am sure that the rest of the passengers that were not abused traveled back home and raved about your services to their friends and families. From what I remember of the tour, it was enlightening and educational and am sure there was a reasonable explanation for this minor obstruction. Thank you very much for listening and I hope to hear back soon.




    Thanks for contacting us with your concerns. I would be remiss if I did not mention to you that this is far and away one of the most entertaining emails I’ve read in a long time! What comes to mind first is that if you ever find yourself wanting to live in a city where we operate, you would make a great tour guide.

    I can most certainly send along complimentary passes for our tour Miami, should you choose to brave the adventure again, in addition to our other US cities – Las Vegas, Washington DC and San Francisco. These passes do not expire.

    Would you be so kind to send me your address?

    Thank you,

    Hi Julia,

    Thank you very much for the quick response! I really appreciate the outstanding customer service along with your understanding toward the situation. I would really appreciate the complimentary passes and could possibly use them to persuade my family to take me on a trip to Vegas this summer. My address is:

    As of now, I am lined up to begin life in corporate America in Chicago this Fall. However, if that doesn’t work out it is nice to know that I might have a calling as a tour guide out in Sin City. I’ll keep you contact information close at hand if the situation arises.

    Again, thank you very much!

    Best regards,


  3. This is definitely one of the more appealing blogs I have seen.
    It’s so easy to assume you’ve seen it all, but there is seriously still some terrific material out there,
    and I believe your website is honestly one
    of them!

  4. I just sent this to some local ass hole orthopedic physician… thought I’d share : )

    While I frequently hear people say that the social status we, especially here in the postindustrial world, give to doctors effects the way they treat those around them, including their patients, I like to think otherwise.
    I would like to think that the extra hour I spent waiting in the reception area today for my appointment was due to some emergency which with the doctor was assisting. Others, however, may have taken the extravagant wait time as a sign of the doctors lack of commitment to his work, or as a sign that he has forgotten that he is providing a service (health care) which allows the rest of our society (the aggregate labor force) to remain productive.
    Today, for example, I lost a large portion of my productivity due to what I will call an urgent emergency, as that must surely be the cause. I refuse to believe that a doctor would run an appointment schedule so carelessly and unsystematically that it would cause a patient who

    a) made her appointment a week in advance to ensure a prompt and timely visit

    b) arrived 25 minutes before appointment to do any paperwork that might disrupt the possibility of a prompt and timely visit

    and had

    c) called ahead of time to be absolutely certain that things were running on time to ensure a prompt and timely visit,

    and after all these steps had been taken, waited in the appointed waiting area for an hour after the scheduled appointment time; surely no physician would do this without good reason. While I understand that the urgent emergency had precedence over my largely unimportant broken finger, most patients will not.
    Most patients, I would argue, would publicly discredit the physician after such an experience and find a new one to replace him. Especially in an area of specialization such as orthopedic care, where so many of the patients are elderly and live in a community where they are in contact with so many other potential patients, a doctor would surely want to avoid such public reproach. He surely would have called his patients had he known he would not be able to see them at the scheduled appointment time.
    I will avoid such tactics firstly because of my certainty that the urgent emergency was so incredibly urgent that I could not have been notified beforehand, and so important that it took primacy over my scheduled appointment, and secondly because my father was a Neurosurgeon in ****** for 30+ years, and I am more then aware of the importance of urgent emergencies that doctors are responsible for handling, and thirdly I simply refuse to believe that anyone with an education as substantial as a practicing doctor could possibly think he could run a durable business in a capitalist society such as we are without such an elementary categorical imperative such as taking appointments according to schedule.
    I will not, however, be returning to visit your office for care of my finger. I take the responsibilities I have to be of equal importance of the urgent emergency which, surely, happened today, and because of this I cannot risk a repeat, as it must be so that the doctor I was scheduled to see today has such skill that he is called upon to bear the burden of responding to urgent emergencies presented to the office, as upon asking other patients in the waiting area their appointments seemed to be on time.
    My current task is to inform the physician I was unable to see today that I am sympathetic to what was surely a very long and stressful day for him, and to inform him that while the series of events I was scheduled to perform this afternoon were quite severely disrupted, I’m sure it was much less so than was the day of the unfortunate person to whom the urgent emergency resulted from.
    While my father, Dr. *******, was quite irritated by the situation, he was in total understanding after I explained to him that there was surely an urgent emergency presented to my would-be physician. So I ask the recipient of this email to inform the Dr. ***** III I was scheduled to see to day of my understanding.

    Best Regards,

    ****** College
    Philosophy Department

  5. Here are three complaints letters I’ve written in the past year. Warning, they are quite long. The first was to Itunes about they’re appalling customer service in response to my itunes account hacked and money stolen, the second is to West Mercia police in relation to them offering me a speeding awareness course, and the third is to Littlewoods about their 2012 xmas ad campaign.

    Letter to Itunes customer support
    This is an email I sent to Itunes today to complain about the fact that they’ve suspended my account, and then ignored me for two months because someone hacked my Itunes account and stole £190:-

    09 March 2011

    This is a short summation of what this email is about so that the lovely people at Itunes can’t say I rambled on a bit and they didn’t read it:-

    I, a “customer” of yours, have had my online account with you, where you hold ALL of my relevant financial details, hacked into, by a penis jockey of unknown origin, who bought his self 19 gift certificates, using my password as a name on January 19th 2011. I, have contacted what you call customer services (with no little irony) via email (because you have no PHONE NUMBER) and have received one reply, in which I was assured by “Katherine” on February 12th 2010, that I was “important” and would be dealt with asap. That was one month ago. Despite REPEATEDLY emailing “Katherine” I have been avoided more readily than a leporous sex offender. I decided the only way forward was to re-start my grievance and bypass the wonderful Katie in the hope that I could get someone who could actually reach the keyboard and type a reply.
    That was three days ago.
    Please respond to me.
    My name is Simon Cullen, my account name is **************

    Please, I don’t hate you, not yet anyway. I’m moving rapidly in that direction though. I’ve had £190 stolen because I used your music program. Which, by the way, ISN’T EVEN ANY GOOD. It’s bloody awful in fact. I don’t want YOU to organise my music files. I want to do it. Why is your cockamany program trying to do it for me?? Why the crapping Christ do I want 3 copies of each song on each album lined up?

    So, for instance, if I listen to AC/DC’s fine Powerage lp, I get Rock and Roll Damnation THREE times. Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s a great song, but when you listen to anything three times in a row, it starts to feel a LITTLE bit like you’re going mental.

    Now, I know, Kate, that you’re probably sitting there, at your office desk, tutting and shaking you’re wisoned head, saying to yourself “huh, you idiot, there’s an OPTION to turn that off. You just press apple/alt/ctrl/shift and four.”
    But, I’m not an idiot, no, I’m just lazy, and I don’t WANT to press any buttons, or fanny about with any drop down menu boxes. I just want to listen to “Cannibal Corpse”. Once, NOT three times. If you listen to Cannibal Corpse three times, Kat, the Zombie Apocalypse definitely begins.

    So I have to go through all my songs, and delete two in every three songs. Then find, that I deleted the working copy and NOT the one I want to listen to, so I have to purchase the LP again from Itunes….oh no, sorry, I can’t, because you SUSPENDED MY FORNICATING ACCOUNT IN FEBRUARY.

    I had money stolen from it. So I was rightly punished, banished from my own account and ignored. Ignored by YOU Katie. And now you won’t even talk to me.

    I’m sick of you. I get better treatment than that from my wife. And you’re not my wife Katherine. You might think you are, with your cold, surly distance, but you’re not.

    Stop stealing my money, and then ignoring me. You’re not all that you know. You’re software is an abortion of a program.
    Do you think I WANT to use that hideous clunky piece of crap? No, I HAVE to, because I bought an Iphone.

    I STILL don’t know how to plug it in and charge it up, without it deleting all my aps and Podcasts.

    “There’s an option…..” no Katherine, NO option. Just don’t DO it unless I ask you o.k.?

    Just CHARGEUP. I didn’t ASK you to delete 4 pages of things that make my commute 10% less goddamn miserable. You JUST DID IT.
    And now I can’t buy them again because you’ve suspended my account.

    So, here’s the deal Katie-pie, I’ve had enough of your petulant ignorance, we’re over. We’re through o.k.?
    Once I am emancipated, I’m taking my things, and moving out. The new playstation phone is out in March, and it’s been seductively swelling its beautiful, rounded bosom in my direction recently.
    I won’t lie, I want to hold it and touch it, and caress its shiny ass.
    I’m sure it won’t require me to have a phd in cock-knockery just to put the things I want onto it, and I’m sure it won’t steal my money and then ignore me like a ginger headed step-child.

    I thank you for the good times, it’s been fun, but it’s also been a colossal pain in the crutch and your broken promises of “customer service” have been too much to take.

    Your’s faithfully or whatever
    Simon Cullen”

    West Mercia Police

    West Mercia Police
    PO Box 25
    Droitwich Worcs
    WR9 8UF

    Dear Mrs Hartland,

    I have recently received a fixed penalty notice through my door for speeding on junction 5-6 of the M5 on the 13th September 2011.

    Let me just start by saying that I fully accept the possibility that I, and the large queue of traffic that I was following southbound, were doing 59mph as we travelled through the road works. This was at 15:05 so traffic was just starting to build up, I can only imagine several 10’s of thousands of people have received these fixed penalties. So firstly, yes, I may have been travelling at the speed indicated, and secondly, congratulations for raking in some cash for the police benevolence fund.

    The Journey

    What I DO NOT accept is that I was driving dangerously, or unsafely, or recklessly. No more so than the majority of the fellow migrants that I encountered on my long journey home. In the weekend that I committed this heinous crime, you see, I and my family (two small children, one regular sized wife) had travelled from South Wales, to Carlisle, to Fife, to Glasgow, and to Ardrossan in Ayrshire. From Ardrossan, we had travelled down through Scotland and headed back to South Wales.

    At no point in that journey did I come anywhere near endangering any other motorist’s life. The most dangerous thing that happened on the entire 973 mile round trip, was some idiotic sewer dweller tailgating me in heavy traffic and flashing the lights of her Audi repeatedly to get me to pull out of her way. As she passed, she took the time to have a short break in the conversation she was having on her mobile phone, to give me a filthy look. I’m sure she drove all the way home, with not a point on her licence or a fine to her name, at about 90mph.

    I, on the other hand, did my best to keep a fluid flow with the traffic, made sure I stayed at least two car lengths from the car in front and kept alert and aware at all times. I pride myself on having an excellent ability to stay alert while driving, and have excellent perception of danger.

    The Crime

    So, firstly, let me examine the crime which is going to take £60 worth of food out of my children’s mouths, and cost me three points on a licence that has been clean for over 15 years.

    I was doing 59mph, on a motorway, in a temporary 50 limit. Now, firstly, as I have pointed out, the traffic was flowing, but heavy by 15:00 on a busy stretch of motorway. I was following the mass of traffic in front, and being followed by the mass of traffic behind. Several times that day the road had been slowed to 50, then to 60, then back down to 50 because of the terrible conditions of strong wind and heavy rain in the morning. So if I was breaking the speed limit, I’d be quite interested to see the statistics of the number of other people caught during that 10 minute period of driving through that section of road works.

    59mph in a 50mph limit, so, that’s 9mph over the temporary speed limit. The speed of a casual jog. Although, I am led to understand after some research, that the recommended tolerance for U.K. speed limit enforcement is 10% of the speed limit (+2mph). So in a 50mph zone, that would be 10%*50(+2)=57mph. So in other words, what I was actually travelling at, was 2mph over the speed limit tolerance. The speed of a crippled glacier. I’ve moved quicker than that while asleep.

    My Options

    Still, 2mph, it’s a fair cop. My options now are to travel all the way up to Worcester to plead my case (costing my probably £60 fuel) or to plead guilty to this terrible act of automotive anarchy, take the three points on my unblemished licence, and send you a cheque for £60 that you’ll presumably put to use oppressing the proletariat or something.

    But hark! What is this we have? Another option?

    Yes! I can drive to Worcester (£60 fuel) and attend a course at a “Speed Awareness Workshop” – for which I‘ll be charged £80 – to be taught about speed awareness. I was travelling at 9mph over the speed limit and 2 mph over your own set tolerance and you want to try to blackmail me into attending a speed awareness course? That is the greatest act of condescension that I have been subjected to in my time on this earth.

    Over 900 miles I travelled in 3 days on the road (in a hurricane) and I didn’t have one moment of danger. Not a close call, barely even an angry glance. I drove carefully and alertly, yet you want to drag me 80 miles to Worcester (a very lovely city though it is) to make me waste a day off work, and indeed a day of my precious time on this mortal plane, to have you tell me that I shouldn’t travel 2mph faster than the speed limit on a motorway.

    My Response To Your Offer

    I am aware of the impact my car will have if it hits a bag of toddlers at 59mph on the m5 thank you very much. I am also aware that I could drive my car into my own toddler at 2mph and it probably wouldn’t even knock him over, and he’s none too steady on his feet.

    I would like to point out that I do not participate in, or endorse, the running over of toddlers, before you send the Sweeny around to beat me with hoses.

    I would like to respond to your insulting, condescending, pathetic offer of “Education” thusly:- I would rather obtain the course fee (£80) in 50 pence coins, heat them all in a pan, and push them individually up my own backside than be talked down to on safety by West Mercia constabulary.

    Could you please send me photographic evidence of my abhorrent infraction so that I can ascertain my own guilt, before I incriminate myself unnecessarily by filling out the guilty plea.

    I will then send off the £60 cheque and a copy of my (currently unblemished) driving license for endorsement.

    In Conclusion

    I am led to understand that the police do an incredibly difficult and admirable job. After watching several episodes of Booze Britain, it’s certainly not a job I would relish doing at 3am in Manchester City Centre, for example. However, it’s petty nonsense like this sort of administrative nitpickery that take money out of the pockets of average, law abiding citizens and unfortunately tarnish the good work that the police do in the eyes of the people who’s pockets you’re ransacking, thus losing respect in the public eye for decent, hard working police officers.

    I feel treating a person like a naughty school boy, because they were doing 2mph over a temporary speed limit, is not the way to garnish public respect. Especially in a time where every time I turn on my TV, I’m being told of plans to abolish the speed limit on motorways altogether.
    I would hope that anyone who reads this would agree that the punishment most certainly doesn’t fit the “crime” and the whole thing is a bit of a joke.

    Please respond to my letter promptly so that I am within my time limit to get the form back to you.

    God forbid it should arrive on your doorstep 43 seconds late or something.

    Yours faithfully

    Simon Cullen

    Dear Mr/Mrs Littlewoods,
    I wonder if you’d take the time to read these few words that I have felt compelled to write to you.

    This isn’t really a complaint as such because it not specifically about your product. If I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure what your product is nowadays. I know there are Littlewoods catalogues, which make is easier for us to buy things that we can’t afford. So I suppose, in a not really very roundabout way, your product is debt and misery.

    So I wouldn’t consider this a complaint against Littlewoods. Just something I needed to get off my chest.

    I’m a 39 year old man. That surprises me as much as ever, but at the time of writing this, I am 4 days away from striding, head held high, into my fifth decade. The only reason I bring this up, is because, a month and a week after my birthday, is Christmas and I love Christmas.

    I love Christmas as much now as I did when I was a small child.

    I love the long drawn out nights, where it’s dark by 5pm. The occasional bitter, icy evenings where the clouds part and the brilliance of an endless sprawl of sparkling heavens, shimmers in the chill December air.

    A magic starts to permeate the air, and as the winter bites your skin, Christmas warms you where it matters.

    For me, that’s what the Christmas season represents: traditions, memories and, above all, magic.

    Now, if I feel like that at (nearly) 40, then I can’t imagine how much that magic must feel amplified to my 6 year old son. He’s already too excited to get to sleep.

    He was writing his list to Santa the other day, and including things he’d like Santa to bring for his baby brother, because he was too young to write to Santa his self.

    He wanted to throw the list up the chimney so that Santa would collect it. I had to explain, that Santa only comes around on Christmas Eve and collects all the notes.

    You see, that’s one of our little family traditions at Christmas. We set out a carrot, and a mince pie on Christmas Eve (which I have to eat half of once the kids are asleep), light the fire, and send the Christmas lists up the chimney (I drop it down the back).
    These are the things we, as parents, remember our parents doing with us. Just trying to keep the magic alive in the season, for the sake of our kids – the things we treasure more than anything on earth.

    My son asked me how the note gets up the chimney. I said “well, I’ll let you decide, it’s either:- a.) heat convection causing the hot air to rise taking the note with it, or:- b.) magic

    He chose b.) because it was Christmas.

    Now, I know, to you, that Christmas means something else. I understand, that as a big business, Christmas to you means “spend you filthy proles”

    You need our money, so you have to advertise to us.
    I don’t see that as a bad thing really. Christmas adverts have sort of become a tradition of the season as well. Another sign that Christmas day is just around the corner.

    I know some people recently that were getting excited about the “coca cola” advert coming on this year because it signified to them that Christmas was around the corner.
    All power to them, personally, I care not a jizz how Coke decide they want to sell me their cloyingly sweet tooth-rot.

    What I do care about though, is when you make an advert that not only makes my son realise there is no magic, and makes him realise we’ve been lying to him for the last six years, and also makes him realise EVERYTHING is a lie…the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, the baby Jesus…. all lies.

    What I care about, is when you decide to make an advert, that not only does all those things it makes me want to reach into the TV screen and slap the glasses off of a small girls face, because she is so affectedly and nauseatingly cute that she has given me type B diabetes.

    It does all that while making us feel incredibly depressed and insignificant, because we can’t afford to buy an Xbox360 (with Kinect I notice) for the cat or an incredibly gaudy watch that looks like it was torn screaming into being from Katie Price’s gargantuan cervix, for Uncle Gein.
    I can barely afford to pay for the wrapping paper never mind a cockamamie laptop for my dead grandfather’s knee.

    What should I do? Pay for it on the never-never with your good selves I presume?

    Xbox360 (with Kinect) £369,
    No idea what that hideous pink thing the “cute” girl is holding is
    Apple macbook air for grandpa £1199
    Optimus Prime £75
    HTC Wildfire S £229
    Fuji Camera £89.00
    Gaudy arse bauble (watch) £369

    It doesn’t take a maths professor to work out that that’s over £2000. And that’s just on six people. I take poos in a room with more than six people at Christmas. We end up buying presents for people I’ve never heard of, met, seen or have any desire to do any of the previous.

    I’d be ejaculating tens of thousands of pounds up you’re debt pipe before the Boxing Day flatulence had even started up.

    You’re saccharine-sweet little nativity scene of consumer pressure has offended me on more levels than I knew I had. I want to rend the surface of my eyes with a hot fork as soon as it defecates across my screen, and I would, if I wasn’t already busy trying to tear off my pained, offended ears.

    Its 40 seconds of soul destroying, joyless spume, that kills anything to do with Christmas, joy, magic or humanity and drags away the innocence of our children. Our child’s innocent naivety and belief in what he is told, has been destroyed by your complicity in this taudry little conceit which you’re flickering into our homes.
    This “outing” of the fact that Santa doesn’t exist has spread through an entire classroom full of 6 year olds, and Littlewoods: “J’accuse”
    To be honest, I’m not the sort of person who wishes harm on anyone, but IF I was, those people would mostly be involved in marketing. So I don’t think Littlewoods are really the people at fault here. I think the people really at fault were the cocaine addled, blue-sky turdwits who thought this abortion of creativity up.
    I will, though, forever associate it with your company. You have soiled yourself all over my opinion, and, from what I can tell from everyone I speak to, you have dropped your Goodsouls men’s trousers (2 pack, £38.00) and loosed your bowels all over the opinions of the general public.

    I think, once upon a time, I held an account with Littlewoods, and it all ended badly, with me spending an entire evening on hold on the telephone because you’d charged me for something you shouldn’t have.
    I probably wrote you a letter.

    If I still have an account open with Littlewoods, the next time your god forsaken little message drags its fetid sphincter across my T.V screen, I will seek out that account and immediately cancel it.

    I will make it my one true goal in life to spread the word across Facebook, Twitter and every other format I can think of to urge people to cancel all accounts with Littlewoods until the advert is pulled off the air.

    Sounds like the sort of thing that would catch on with one of those odd, campaigning little Facebook groups that pop up doesn’t it!

    Please, I urge you, don’t try to justify yourselves by saying it’s a “cute twist on the nativity” and “all about family”. That’s just condescending to us. You’re assuming that we’re too stupid to understand the less than subtle subtext of your advert:- that’s not “muvver” who put all that overpriced aspiration under our tree, but Littlewoods.

    You haven’t paid hundreds of thousands of pounds creating an advert for mothers; it’s about your brand.

    Please do the decent thing, admit that this advert was a horrible mistake, pull it as soon as possible and go with a puppet reindeer slipping on a roller skate or something.

    Remember, you’re human beings, you were kids once. You believed in magic, not hot air convection. WE all know it’s our “luvlee luvleeee muvverrrrrr” who spends money she doesn’t have and plunges us into a spiralling oblivion of consumer debt, but WE should be the people who ruin it all for our children, not, my dear Mr Littlewoods, you.

    • Simon,

      Many thanks for these. Excellent letters! Are you happy for me to post them?
      Did you get any replies? If so, would be great to have scans. I can blank out addresses or any details you don’t want shared.
      As for the Littlewood’s advert, can you find a link to it on YouTube or similar? Would be good to have the reason for the complaint (even a still from the ad?)



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