Randolph Dear [name deleted]
I write to you upset and irritated. It is Tuesday morning, 4 July 2006, and I am no closer to having an Internet connection than I was on Friday morning when I spoke to you. The only difference between then and now is that my housemate is out of pocket more than R2500, and in my kitchen, lying on the floor in pieces, is a dish, a pole, a wall bracket, 6 metres of cable, and a Sentech modem which has been seeking a signal for almost a week. I have taken a large chunk of my work time to compose this letter, which I trust will be handled in a professional manner. I also trust that D will be no longer employed by you by the end of today.
The rest of the letter runs into a few thousand words.