Dear Arriva Buses,

From my previous letter, you shold by now know that I believe in giving credit where credit's due. And today is no exception. The way in which you destoyed my day, health and will to live with so little effort was, well, admirable.

At first I thought it was going pretty well. Running down Cavendish Avenue, I jumped onto a number 7. And I was incredibly relieved, as the number 7 had apparently disappeared. It was only when I actually tried to buy a ticket I found out it wasn't a 7, they'd just put that sign up for the hell of it.

40 minutes later there was still no bus. I then went through a series of phases; denial, sadness, anger and back to denial. And yet by the time the bus arrived I was numb, both physically and emotionally. I'd been there 90 minutes.

Fortunately, I have to complement your company. During this time people, divided by background, race, age and gender, were brought together. In shear hatred and loathing of Arriva Buses. I've heard it said many times that if there was a revolution in this country the people of Hertfordshire would storm Arriva Buses, drag the overpaid executives from their burning boardroom and hang them from the nearest tree. Of course, they'd probably just rough them up a bit, this is Hertfordshire after all.

But if anything's going to spark off a revolution, it's the act of paying £4 a day for this insult. And as it's a monopoly, I don't have the choice. What makes it even worse is that this is the second day in a row this has happened. So this has cost me 2x£4, plus the two hours of work I've lost (£12). I'm not impressed.

Please send the usual corporate platitudes and some *very* generous compensation to the above address. Because the revolution's going to happen one day.

Regards

A Customer