I bought a used gpu on ebay today
**ONE STAR — THE ABDULBEHNCHOD INCIDENT: A MONUMENTAL BRITISH TECHNOLOGICAL CATASTROPHE**
Absolutely fucking shambolic. This entire transaction has been a monumental cock-up of biblical proportions, an almighty balls-up, a spectacular clusterfuck, and a right royal fuck-up of such staggering magnitude that it deserves its own parliamentary inquiry.
I paid £999,999.99 for this alleged graphics card. NINE HUNDRED AND NINETY-NINE THOUSAND, NINE HUNDRED AND NINETY-NINE POUNDS AND NINETY-NINE PENCE. FOR A FUCKING GRAPHICS CARD.
At that price, I expect a personal tour of the semiconductor factory, a complimentary nuclear power station, a lifetime supply of DDR memory, and Jensen Huang himself to hand-deliver the bastard on a golden cushion.
Instead, the listing reads like some half-cut wanker has rammed an entire PC component catalogue up his arse and typed whatever fell out.
ATI. AMD. INTEL CORE ULTRA. CORE i9. NVIDIA GEFORCE GT GTS GTX RTX. RYZEN 7. RADEON R9. 5070 XTX KF SUPER Ti.
WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING HELL IS THIS BOLLOCKS?
This isn't a product name. It's a fucking semiconductor identity crisis. It's a hardware-themed fever dream. It's the technological equivalent of ordering a pint of lager and receiving a shopping trolley full of broken calculators.
And the cooling system. TEN FUCKING FANS.
TEN.
What is this, a graphics card or a bloody offshore wind farm? Has someone mistaken a GPU for a ventilation system at Heathrow Airport? Is this thing supposed to render Cyberpunk 2077 or redirect the fucking Gulf Stream?
The shroud looks like it was designed by a committee of pissed-up chimps, manufactured by a gang of incompetent pillocks, and quality-controlled by a particularly thick badger wearing a hi-vis jacket.
The listing is an absolute dog's breakfast. A steaming pile of old cobblers. A monumental heap of horse shit. An industrial-sized shower of shite. A complete load of toot. An unmitigated disaster. A right fucking piss-take.
The seller's apparent grasp of computer hardware is absolutely fucking dire. Not merely poor. Not just rubbish. Spectacularly, gobsmackingly, incomprehensibly shite.
What sort of absolute weapon thinks that every CPU manufacturer, graphics-card family, model number and suffix can be thrown into a blender and sold as one product? You daft sod. You absolute plank. You monumental bellend. You prize pillock. You complete muppet. You clueless berk. You utter numpty. You right plonker. You knobhead. You gobshite. You tosser. You arsehole. You first-class wanker.
But the graphics card was only the beginning.
**THE EBAY MONEY BACK GUARANTEE INCIDENT**
Apparently, eBay took one look at this catastrophic fucking shambles and decided that ordinary consumer protection simply wasn't enough.
They didn't just refund me.
THEY REFUNDED ME TWICE THE ORIGINAL PRICE.
£1,999,999.98.
NEARLY TWO MILLION FUCKING QUID.
According to the story, eBay's customer support team examined the listing, witnessed the ten-fan abomination, read the product title, and collectively decided that no human being should have to endure such a monumental load of bollocks without compensation.
Some poor customer-service representative must have opened the case, stared at the screen for thirty seconds, whispered "what the fuck am I looking at," and escalated it directly to the chief executive.
The finance department probably had a collective nervous breakdown. The accounting software spontaneously combusted. Somebody in legal started updating the company's terms and conditions to include a new clause specifically addressing graphics cards manufactured from every semiconductor brand known to humanity.
And then came the final settlement.
APPARENTLY, THEY GAVE ME THE FUCKING SELLER TOO.
NOT A COUPON. NOT A VOUCHER. NOT A FREE POSTAGE LABEL.
THE SELLER HIMSELF.
The Abdulbehnchod acquisition was complete. eBay had allegedly decided that the only acceptable resolution was to refund nearly two million pounds and transfer the seller into my ownership like some sort of bonus item in an unhinged corporate liquidation.
I went shopping for a graphics card and somehow emerged as the owner of a fictional multinational semiconductor conglomerate, two million pounds richer, and responsible for a bloke called Abdulbehnchod.
WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCKING HELL IS MY LIFE?
My imaginary legal department is currently attempting to establish whether the seller comes with a warranty, whether he supports PCIe 5.0, and whether the ten-fan shroud is included in the acquisition agreement.
The human resources department has already filed a complaint.
The IT department is one graphics card.
The finance department is on fire.
And the chief technology officer is apparently the same bloke who thought that putting ATI, AMD, Intel, NVIDIA, Ryzen, Radeon, GTX, RTX, XTX, Super, Ti and KF in one product name was a sensible business decision.
This entire operation is a right dog's dinner. A proper arse-over-tit catastrophe. An almighty cock-up. A first-rate shambles. A masterclass in incompetence. A spectacular demonstration of how to turn a potentially useful product into a steaming mountain of commercial nonsense.
The ten-fan contraption probably needs its own postcode. I wouldn't be surprised if it requires three-phase industrial power, a dedicated substation, planning permission from the local council, and a sacrificial 1600-watt PSU to prevent the entire electrical installation from throwing a fucking tantrum.
Imagine installing this abomination into a gaming PC. You press the power button and the neighbours' windows start rattling. The curtains leave the house. The cat achieves orbit. Your electricity meter spins so fast that it files a complaint with Ofgem.
All this for a machine whose sole purpose is presumably to run a football game at 60 FPS while the goalkeeper watches the ball sail through his hands like a bewildered fucking turnip.
The seller's technical expertise appears to consist of typing random brand names into a search bar and hoping nobody notices. It's like selling someone a car advertised as a Ford Toyota BMW Volkswagen V12 Civic GTI Turbo Super Ti XTX Edition and expecting them not to ask questions.
This is not commerce. This is performance art for absolute idiots.
Frankly, I've seen more coherent engineering from a toddler with a glue stick, a box of broken crayons, and absolutely no adult supervision. I've encountered more sensible product descriptions on supermarket biscuits. I've received more useful technical information from a damp cardboard box.
This is what happens when incompetence puts on a cheap suit, opens an online marketplace account, and decides to have a go at capitalism.
It's the sort of brainless bollocks that makes you wonder whether the listing was written by a drunk badger having a nervous breakdown in a Currys car park while being chased by an angry accountant.
One star is frankly generous. Zero stars would be too kind. Negative stars would be appropriate. The review system needs to introduce an entirely new category below the bottom of the scale, specifically for transactions that make the buyer question the fundamental laws of physics, economics, and human intelligence.
Absolutely shite. Utter cobblers. Total bollocks. Complete and utter rubbish. A colossal fuck-up. An irredeemable dog's breakfast.
£999,999.99.
TEN FANS.
A REFUND OF £1,999,999.98.
ONE SELLER ACQUIRED IN THE MOST QUESTIONABLE CORPORATE TAKEOVER IN HUMAN HISTORY.
ONE MASSIVE FUCKING HEADACHE.
Sort it out, you absolute muppet.