Haught

Purveyors of fine sarcasm

Category: Emails

My email to the ABC (about Rat from Bananas in Pyjamas)

My email to the ABC (about Rat from Bananas in Pyjamas)

Dear ABC, This email started its life, many years ago, as the transcribed harrumphing of a Baby Boomer (in the…

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My email to Ticketek

My email to Ticketek

But your online ticketing system blasted dozens of litres of thick yellow diarrhoea into its own underpants and now many of them don’t have tickets. Probably, some of them don’t have jobs because instead of working today they had to sit on a computer piss-farting around while your website told them various unhelpful and contradictory things that weren’t the truth, i.e. “Oh, pwoah! The system has 48 cubic metres of shit in its boxers. Just like last year. This is going to take at least 45 minutes to clean up.” You might not be familiar with an online ticketing system – it’s a digital platform used for distributing… anyway, never mind. The salient point is yours didn’t work. At all.

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My email to the people of Sydney

My email to the people of Sydney

Yes, what some would call a tropical cyclone of juvenility and amateurism; a shitstorm of lies and arrogance and presumption and quite a lot of shit; a maelstrom of fuckwittery the likes of which only 1970s Queensland could possibly rival; a bubbling fen of idiocy, animated only by the foul gas of a clown drowning in his own ineptitude; a septic tank filled with rank hypocrisy and seven different versions of the truth and then stirred with an ibis’s beak (but which I would call a minor, easily explainable incident) has put tiny Sydney on the world map. 

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My email to the Marriage Equality Straw Man

My email to the Marriage Equality Straw Man

How dare you roll your eyes at their beliefs. How dare you scoff at their values. How dare you spit at their feet just before they lycra up and get sweaty with their cycling chums. How dare you drown out their voices by firing rainbow Kalashnikovs into the sky whenever they begin to proffer their opinion and by sending a glitter-encrusted wrecking ball through the spires and minarets of their places of worship whenever they mention their religious convictions…

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My email to Arnott’s

  Last week, someone contacted me. The end. Not really. That was a little joke. The person who contacted me…

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My email to the Commonwealth Bank

I notice you’re in a bit of a jam. You’ve been saying “Can’t” a lot to a lot of people. Which is absolutely fine. You have an insurance arm, and insurers say “Can’t”, “No” and “Get fucked” as a matter of course, but there’s that whole problem of you being the Can bank.

Bugger.

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My email to 7-Eleven

[A] position has recently opened up at the company I founded nearly four years ago. You will have heard of it: Haught Enterprises. It’s now become so large and so successful that I’m looking for a Chief Executive Officer to do what CEOs do… deliver value and drive strategic synergies and warn people against socialism and shit.

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My email to the National Rifle Association

[After the apocalypse] we’ll have supercharged, skeletal cars and incredibly sexy makeshift leather body armour, but what good will that do us when a horde of koala-human hybrids attacks us in the wee small ours of the morning while we camp by a glowing billabong? The dread creatures will ravage us. Because, as you know, the only thing that can stop a bad koalaguy with a gun is a good guy with a gun.

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My email to Melburnians

You have no justification for outrage. Outrage is a privilege not an entitlement. It is like 1951 Grange Hermitage. Or dental care. You can’t just have it; you must earn the right to enjoy it.

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My email to The Goodnight Society

Thank you for quietly intervening to fix up Australia Post’s mess, even after being expressly told that wasn’t necessary. Thank you for making jarmies that aren’t drenched in the sweat of 12 year old workers plying their trade in crumbling Bangladesh buildings. Thank you for doing something thoroughly warm-hearted when today most people are blown away when companies display anything remotely approaching basic decency. Thank you for throwing margins out the window to make a new customer feel loved. Thank you with all the sincerity that a 32 year old curmudgeon can muster.

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