-A bar in <<insert random Lux town here>> has caused a seismic reaction with dyed-in- the-wool Luxembourgers and residents alike. 

Random punter Pascal Keksessen suddenly withdrew from his evening plans last Friday night when he noticed that the rusty Bofferding shield of his local had been replaced. 

“I stopped in my tracks, jaw agape” he said.  “I walked backwards for a couple of minutes.  Curled up into a ball in a bus shelter.”

“The words Bit and Burger have been plaguing my thoughts ever since.”

Dual citizen Peter Elsewhere had similar concerns.  “It’s too harrowing to walk into my local and not be around a group of grown men playing skittles.  It’s just eerie.”

“Don’t even get me started on the non-chemical beer they were serving.”
  
When the Splice suggested trying again, Elsewhere sneered, “In my town in the UK if you didn’t paint your house in the local football colours you got what was coming to you.”

The Splice contacted his new pub landlord Rudy Deutschlander for a response, in the interests of fair and balanced reporting.  He commented “Bring it!  I’ve got a venomous fish to smack that asshole with whenever he wants!”

Keksessen meanwhile, has been catatonic ever since his shock discovery.  One night at 4 A.M. he whispered to himself, “It’s 1940 again.”  

The boss of the Impots Directs or Contributions Directes or some other such fascade called a secret meeting of its employees this Monday.

The Splice managed to gain access by adopting the guise of your average Lux Municipal Worker, ripped jeans, Hermes scarf, ketchup stained shirt and chin drool. (We tried to put our left eyes in the right socket and vice versa but it’s just not possible without lasting damage).

“We need a new model!” roared the Boss.

“To be prepared for the next tax year we need to make our labyrinth of despair four dimensional. We cannot deter the increasingly suspecting tax-payer with only unsigned emails and unanswered calls.”

“We need more creative ways of saying no. Emails don’t just have to be lost or deleted, they can be denied completely!”

“We need a front desk of people with faces that say: We’ll never be able to help you!”

“Remember, most state workers do it by habit. We do it on purpose!”

He exploded into a 30 foot flaming demon at this point.

“Once we’ve spent weeks and months breaking them down, they’ll walk into our lobbies to be delivered the knockout blow we’ve craved for so looooooong!”
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There was a short Q&A session. Then he changed back to human, got in his Porsche and sped back to his airport sized house in Bridel.

One group of expats complained yesterday how they have been referred several times by doctors within Luxembourg.

One of the bunch, Steve Galager detailed how he was led own the garden path from his Merl GP to a Strassen Specialist, a Limpertsberg Laboratory, a Surgeon in Esch to a witchdoctor in Vianden.

Buddy Peter chimed in with a similar story, the notable difference being that he was steadfastly denied treatment in a renowned German facility, despite Luxembourg having nowhere near that sort of capability for his condition.  

“They’re still more useful than notaries at least,” he offered.

Galager added “Every Doctor I saw had a certificate from the same university on their wall.  One even had a picture of them all together at Primary school with the same holier-than-thou look on their smug little faces.”

After another beer he chuckled “Alright, I made the fucking witchdoctor part up, but you get the point.”

Technicians from a telecommunications company which shall remain nameless opened up a whole new world for a patient consumer yesterday morning.

“They were different to the shining, smiley people in the shop,” said mother-to-be Matylda Huzku.  The Merl resident was at a loss for words when her scheduled internet installation did not go as easily as the initial sale did.

“They parked diagonally across the driveway and pounded on the door.  I was left standing there holding the paper I was supposed to show them.  One bolted into my apartment on all fours and the other disappeared into the basement.”

“It was probably to get me set up with wifi as soon as possible.”

“Jack-booted Stormtroopers?!"   a Client Service Bod spluttered to the Splice.  “Our technicians take the greatest care to answer your questions and make the whole process as painless as possible.”

“The one ransacking my wardrobe screamed yes when I asked if he wanted an espresso.” said Husku.  “I chose to leave it there given he was foaming at the mouth.”

Another resident added, “I heard god-awful clanging and satanic laughter so I went downstairs.  The guy had wrenched open all the control boxes and was fusing the cables together in his mouth.  I guess Matylda will have to reschedule.”