One of the interchangeable, oh-so-average eateries in Luxembourg has fired a Canadian waiter.  "What didn't he do!" The proprietor said.  "Attracted people in from the street.  Attentive throughout every sitting, but not overly so.  Replenished drinks!  He caught customers eyes when they had questions!"* 

A couple of long term residents commented, "We're livid.  Alll we ever ask for on a meal out is one overpriced drink, one unimaginary meal and then to be treated like we're not there.  This guy had the stones to ask how things were going and furthermore, if we could suggeset anywhere to visit in the area.  We don't hate the other staff, they have to live in shitholes like Arlon and Longwy, but we hate this fucking clown!"

The waiter plans to take action, however all 46 consumer advice societies in Luxembourg have yet to acknowledge his request, and he has been forced to take a job in the financial industry.

*He actually pulled out some hair at this point.

Luxembourgish is apparently the most valued nationality to possess, and (more importantly) still holds on to the number one spot of Superfreak capital of Benelux. 

As we all know - a Sunday drive will expose you to the shouters, the ass-draggers and that guy who head-butts the city buses.  A proud resident remarked “These are great times! Our forgotten nation can now smugly hold up a middle finger to our smirking neighbours, plus we’ve got that guy who head-butts the buses!  None of those pussies in Brussels or Amsterdam have got that kind of swagger.” 

This world renowned institution intends to apply to officially be recognized as a playground for spoiled brats in the Grand Duchy. 

Since the order of the day is back-biting, bragging about toys and throwing fucking ice cubes at functions – the organizers have seen fit to label their membership as the petulant, utter fucktards that most of them are. 

Some toddlers have informed the Lux Splice that they will be out protesting this as they are hoping to become mature and respectable human beings. 

One said, "We do not want to be put in the same bracket as these awful people.  It'll be a stain on the toddler population here.  We care about Play-Doh, not your undeserved promotions and electric cars.  I hope they all drive into a ravine."

A Management Agency employee was not only spotted fleeing to an escape pod* yesterday, but also held in conversation.  The creature shreiked like a bat when cornered by three angry apartment block residents who proceeded to reel off their greivances.  Over the next five minutes the agent pretended to note several concerns including: Why does it cost €70 to change a lightbulb?  Why no statements or reimbursements have been issued since 1973?  How come the maintenance guy only speaks an unknown Slavic language?

The agent escaped when some clouds covered the sunlight.  He has now changed his name, had plastic surgery and returned with a slighly-tweaked Agency logo.  Upon last sighting he was dancing around a fire in Bambesch chanting "Change my face, change my name, the Management Agent's filthy game."

*A hideously adorned Smart Car