To Mr Bates, Manager of Wrinkly Lodge.
Dear Mr Bates,
Letter of Apology
I am writing to thank you for your letter which I received this week.
Thank you also for the photographic evidence you sent from your security cameras. I can understand why ‘there is little doubt in your mind as to the identity of your ‘hooligan’ guests.’
Since our departure from your wonderful hotel and the receipt of your letter, we have obviously had time to reflect upon our actions and the example we should have been setting those fucking annoying kids who seemed to lie in wait to torture us in every area of the hotel to the younger guests.
We will of course pay for the damage incurred during our stay and apologize again wholeheartedly for the lapse(s) of judgment on our part.
As per the instructions in your letter we confirm responsibility for the following:
The score in the green baize of the snooker table which was unfortunately caused when my husband mistakenly presumed that he could still balance precariously on the edge of the table to take a difficult shot; to his dismay his lack of flexibility caused his back to lock painfully, causing him to fall into the table cue-first.
Filling up the wine bottles in the mini bar with water and replacing the Kettle chips with Woolworths Select.
The stain on the mattress, which was in fact massage oil (and nothing as sinister as your letter suggested), which was accidentally spilt when my husband slid off me whilst reaching for the remote control in a compromising position.
The wet footprints on the wooden floor from the outdoor swimming pool were unfortunately mine, after my husband dared me to jump in the outdoor, unheated pool naked for $350.00. Please apologize on our behalf to the wedding party that happened to be in the reception area as I re-entered the hotel lobby in only a couple of hotel towels.
I believe that my husband might have been responsible for writing the C word on the white tablecloth in the ‘lounge’ restaurant after one too many whiskies and poor service.
I suggest that your staff search the gutter outside the bedroom window for the television remote control. It was unfortunate that during the weekend in question, Australia happened to play so appallingly in the Ashes.
The top stretcher of the ‘replica 16th century’ four poster bed did not simply ‘snap’ by itself, but was the unwitting victim of my husband trying to prove his manhood agility in the bedroom.
Stealing bacon and sausages from breakfast, concealing them in the bathroom to eat later for lunch and then forgetting about them, was childish.
Shouting ‘shut the fuck up’ through the wall to the lovely young couple with the newborn baby in the next room, was rude.
The mud in the bath was a result of my husband bringing only one pair of shoes with which to walk the Blue Mountains and dine in.
Throwing pieces of bread at your piano player and pretending it wasn’t us, (especially during his awful rendition of ‘New York, New York’), was, as you suggested in your letter, ‘highly immature’.
Our lack of formal attire for the dining room was selected based on the temperature of the region and without consideration for the hotel dress code. We now fully appreciate that mountain boots and balaclavas are not appropriate clothing for the purposes of dining.
I take full responsibility for the red stains on the white bed linen caused by my attempt at re-creating a romantic American Beauty red petal effect, crafted from your very own red dinner serviettes. Unfortunately my ‘petals’ combined with the spilled massage oil overnight.
Parking in the No Parking area – I hope you will understand that it was the closest space to the hotel lobby and that night it was, (I think you’ll agree), FUCKING cold.
Hooning down the pebbled drive of the estate at 3am.
Upon reflection, we obviously deeply regret the decisions we made at your beautiful Lodge and any personal embarrassment caused by my husband’s juvenile reaction to your staff calling your name.
We await your bill for the damage.
Mr and Mrs ………….