Monday, 13 May 2013

Colosseum? More Like Mausoleum!

I’m writing to see if you received my email a couple of months ago outlining the concerns I had with my order of one large ribs. I’ve been eagerly awaiting your reply...

Firstly, please confirm which animal the ribs came from. I don’t mean which animal specifically, just the species. I’ve thought about this long and hard and I’m convinced they must have belonged to a cat, or one of the Olsen twins - probably Mary Kate.

To be honest, I’ve seen meatier ribs in a World Vision commercial.

Your business name gives an impression of grandeur on an immense scale; after all, the Colosseum was the Roman Empire’s largest elliptical ampitheatre. Because of this, I was expecting to be presented with a rack of ribs similar in size to the one that tips Fred’s car over during the opening sequence of The Flintstones. Unfortunately, what I received looked more like Skeletor’s throne from He-Man and the Masters of the Universe - another childhood favourite cartoon of mine.

Don’t you think that for someone named Skeletor, he’s incredibly muscular? Me too.

Remember the movie Gladiator, starring Russell Crowe? It’s probably my favourite sports movie of all time. Basically, it’s about Rusty’s experience at the Colosseum. He gets really angry and kills lots of people in it, a scene I’ve played out in my mind countless times over the last couple of months. Don’t worry though, I’m not a violent person. At worst I’d probably just throw a telephone at you - another one of Rusty’s favoured combat techniques.

The one positive outcome from this experience is that I’m thinking of sponsoring a World Vision child. I haven’t done much research into yet, do I get to bring him home? If so, I’d probably go for one with a bit of sweatshop experience. I’m terrible with a sewing machine and since I lost so much weight - a consequence of meager rib consumption - I now require a skilled tailor to alter all my clothes. What do you think I should name the little guy? I’m thinking, Maximus.

I’m not after an apology, but I do want you to know that the $39.95 I paid for the replica graveyard you gave me could’ve been used to keep little Maximus and his family alive for a quarter of a millennium, which just happens to be the same amount of time it’ll take me to reconsider ordering from you again.

All the best,

Rich Wisken (and Maximus)