Tag Archives: they are well shit like


I have a headache, so posting a complaint email I sent to Topshop’s customer service department a couple of hours ago will have to suffice for today’s entry. They are useless whelks and I hope they burn. No individuals, just the whole concept of Topshop.


I have just received the email quoted below. Seeing as it provides no reason whatsoever, I would like to know why this order has been cancelled. This is the fifth time this has happened now – four for my girlfriend, who has been trying in vain to make an order and now, as far as I can tell for no reason whatsoever, an order for the same item made with completely different details – i.e. mine – has been cancelled too.

What on earth is going on? I have money in my account, the billing and shipping addresses are present and correct, the card details were in order – I’m even on the electoral register, so it can’t be ‘proof of address’ nonsense I’ve encountered before. What is the problem? Why is this happening? Why are Topshop seemingly committed to not taking my girlfriend’s money?

Of course this does mean neither I or my other half will be using your site again to make any orders, such is the monumental stupidity of a system that bans legitimate buyers from making purchases. So please – no offers to placate or sort the order out. The issue has been raised many times before and it has never been sorted out thanks to some phenomenally poor customer service, so we’re beyond that. Your competitors win this round, because they’ll be the ones getting her cash.

I just want to know what in the blue hell is causing our orders to be cancelled? An allergy to Bournemouth, perhaps? Jealousy that the coat might look too good on my girlfriend? Maybe we’re considered too low-brow to be allowed to spend our money at the Mecca of classy clothing that is ‘Top’ ‘Shop’? Any answer is better than “YOUR ORDER HAS BEEN CANCELLED, CALL THIS PREMIUM-RATE PHONE NUMBER TO FIND OUT WHY”.

I await your response on the edge of my seat. No, literally – I’m perched here. My clammy buttocks are clinging on for dear life. I hope you respond before they run out of energy and I plummet to the office floor. Really, I do. Otherwise I’ll have another thing to be royally peeved about, and I’ll blame that on Topshop too.

Ian Dransfield

I haven’t heard back from them yet. Bastards.


Filed under Prattle