Fail

The Gorse Fox was up early to catch the train to Brighton. The Silver Vixen, kindly, gave him a lift to the station. He was delighted to find that the trains were almost deserted. It did become evident, however, that the only people not wearing masks were the indestructible youths who were just "too cool to care".

The Gorse Fox strolled down to the Churchill Mall and wandered round to the Apple Store. He was greeted by a phalanx of Apple-droids and security guards. He paused. Had he stumbled through a wormhole into the protests of Portland, Oregon? He concluded that it was unlikely. There was no lingering smell tear gas, no graffiti, nobody (that he could see) being beaten with batons or nightsticks, and nobody being bundled into blacked-out vans for rendition or reprogramming. On the whole, it was unlikely that the idiot Trump and his goons were interested in the Apple store in Brighton.

A hand was raised. "Do you have an appointment?" the Gorse Fox confirmed his appointment and the time and begged forgiveness for being early. "We need to take  your temperature, sir?" The Gorse Fox was expecting this and started to bend over (Apple do tend to be thorough). He was delighted to find, however, it was a reading taken from his forehead. He was cleared. Being early, however, he was told to go and get a coffee or wander around until 09:35. Tugging his forelock, he backed away and wandered into Costa.

At 09:34 he returned. The phalanx of droids closed in again. "We must take your temperature". The Gorse Fox was expecting a rigid adherence to process, but when he explained they had already done this and sent him away for a coffee, they relented. He was instructed to stand on particular spot and not move until a droid came to collect him.

On time, the droid arrived. He asked what the problem was. The Gorse Fox explained that, as it said on the note the droid had in front of him, the MacBook needed a new battery. (The Gorse Fox knew this because he followed the Apple instructions to review the status of the battery). The droid plugged in the machine and ran some diagnostics. He looked up. "This MacBook needs a new battery" he concluded. (Sherlock would be amazed by the cleanliness of the road behind his horse and cart). "Yes" replied the Gorse Fox, that's what I said on the work order. "We do have to check" said the droid. Fair enough. He returned to his iPad. He tapped away for a few minutes. "We don't have one in stock" he said. "Isn't that exactly the point of me specifying the problem when I book the machine in? That way you can ensure you have stock." "No" he said we don't work like that.

Clearly.

The Gorse Fox left the MacBook with them to fix and he would collect it once complete. This will probably be next week, some time.

Frustrated he walked back up to the station. Droves of scantily dressed people were streaming down the hill from the London train. Clearly, with the good weather forecast, they were intent on having a day at the beach. The Gorse Fox climbed into the railway carriage just as the doors closed and the train set off. An hour later he was walking home from Bognor Station.