"Hello, Domino's Pizza."
"Hi there. I live in Lingfield, where the only food delivery we have is a guy selling chickens. But this morning a Domino's menu came through the door, tantalising my taste-buds with promises of pepperoni and mozzarella-laden goodness."
"Excuse me??"
"I'd like to order some lunch."
"I'm sorry sir, we don't deliver to Lingfield."
SILENCE.
"Why do you hate me?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You're telling me you've posted a leaflet through my door showing me all the food I can't order?? Why would you do this?? It's just cruel."
"You can still order for collection sir."
"Ah... so the mountain must come to Mohammed eh? How do you know I'm not a cripple? How do you know I even have legs? I might be housebound and miserable, wittering away my days dreaming of a pizza to dispel the painstaking monotony and anguish of day-to-day living."
"Do you have legs sir?"
"Yes. But that's neither here nor there. You could have just dangled salvation to a dying man, only to carelessly whip it away?? Teased him with promises of Elysium, only to then condemn him to Hades. What sort of customer service is that??"
"Erm... I'm sorry."
"Sorry won't cut it my friend. I demand justice!"
"Would you like to speak to a manager?"
"No, it's alright. I'll just have some toast."
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