That's THREE FOR THREE now. Three times I have given you my custom and three times you have fucked me in the arse. And not small fucking things either: it's either NO tickets or it's the WRONG ticket or the wrong fucking flight. I say no more and bid you good day, Sir.
UPDATE: Oh and this is what you call the AISLE SEAT I REQUESTED IS IT?? Right, because to me it looks like I'm sandwiched between a weird smelling freak who slurps EVERYTHING HE DRINKS and a comatose woman who may or may not have died somewhere over the Indian ocean. Whatev!
My travel agent is not only lovely, she'll book flights by email. Which helps when you're at work. She managed to get us an open jaw Perth - Vietnam - Cambodia - Perth ticket so I can't praise her highly enough. Can send you her number if you like.
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