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Monday, 15 January 2007

A Touch of Class.






I have been regally shafted - by, appropriately enough, Royal Mail! Who the Hell is in charge of their deliveries policy these days? A descendant of Dick bloody Turpin or Ronnie Biggs?!?
Right now Reg, "relax, focus, breathe" - I must remember what the doctor and the psychiatrist told me.................... I now have inner-calm and so shall continue.
I had to send a package down south today. No, that's not a toilet-time euphemism. I actually had to send a parcel to some friends in Kent. I went into my village to do that but first I had to stop off at the bank to pay some credit card bills - isn't it eery how Lloyds TSB Visa and Barclaycard have both opted for an APR which matches exactly the inflation rate in post-war Germany? Anyway, I digress. On to the Post Office.
It was a heavy parcel I had to send and I was told it would cost £7 to go "ordinary First Class". Without thinking, I decided to send it "registered delivery" instead, to be on the safe side. How much? Go on, ask me, how much? I'll tell you - £18 bloody 50p!! The present in the parcel only cost £25!! Jesus, who were they getting to deliver it? The Sultan of Brunei on the back of flaming Shergar? "Oh, that guarantees delivery tomorrow," said the Post Mastery-type person. "It's not going on the fucking Space Shuttle, is it?" I enquired, scarcely controlling my rage. "Kent's not THAT far, surely. I'm not asking to send some plutonium to Alpha Centauri, you know."
What I don't get is that when I was alive, thousands of years ago, sending something First Class meant that it got there the next day, so long as you caught the noon post. Second Class meant the day after that or possibly the day after the day after that. What system have we got now? "That'll be £x, please, or £2.64x if you want the job done properly."
I'd like to see how we got on if everyone adopted Royal Mail's pricing policy. You buy pie and chips at the Deranged Fryer and the guy behind the counter says: "That'll be £2.50 or did you want them without the botulinum bacillus? That would be an extra £10." Maybe at Dixons they'll start saying: "Oh, yes, it's £80 for the Ear-Death 9000 CD player, or £28,340 for one that actually works."
It all started with this "class" bollocks. Virgin Rail is the world's leading authority on it (see previous rants). "Hello, poor, fuckwit, sap of a customer. Right, it's £30 to go to London. It is, however, £230 for a First Class ticket but for that you will not actually have to stand up for the entire journey, your seat WILL be larger than a three-month-old child's potty, you will not be in a carriage so BO and fart-odour-ridden that you will have to hold your breath all the way and your chances of catching scabies, rabies, smallpox, chicken pox, Blue Water Fever, green monkey disease, a range of skin conditions outlined in our 'on-board magazine', the HIV virus and head lice will be dramatically reduced."
Yes, I know they had First, Second and even Third Class in the "good old days" of British Rail. However, as regards that, I am reminded of that great line from the equally great book and TV series A Very British Coup. When a journalist asked the newly-elected socialist Prime Minister if he would abolish First Class travel he replied: "No, but I do intend to abolish Second Class travel. I think everybody's first class, don't you?" Here, here, my thoughts exactly.
Anyway, Royal Mail - to quote Partridge, "sub-human scum". It's off to Grantham you go.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

hello

i used to work at the post office in grantham. it was gash. postmen are (in general) wankers.

cheers mate

Barry Lawrence said...

Concise, pithy and incisive. Like it, dj. Keep the faith (but not the letters).

WEDNESDAY, 21 NOVEMBER 2007

SHORTS DON'T MATTER! 1. From the greatest programme ever made about association football, Barnstoneworth United FC manager Mr Dainty delivers one of the finest English soliloqiues of all time.......and afterwards, spare a thought for the club steward's wife Vera (YOU ONLY HAVE TO WATCH HALF OF THE CLIP!!).

Monday, 12 November 2007

Not everyone who agonises over their life is a painter. Some of us agonise because we're NOT painters.

....And On the Subject of Great Public Services

I know most of you have heard this marvellous song by those doctors who are the Amateur Transplants......but I think the video is a nice addition. P.S. If there are kids in the room I'd shuffle them out before hitting play.

...There's More

On the subject of those great doctors, here is their version of More Than Words which presents their challenging views on women outside Watford. The very-soon-to-be ex-Mrs Pither, coming from Cumbria, is a huge fan. Again, get those kids out of the room!

Leave Britney Alone, Ok!!!

Oh...........my............God!!!!! My heartfelt thanks go to BGT for this. I won't say much more, I don't need to. Mr Loony of Loonytown, USA (I think it's a bloke, anyway), says it all. I fear he may be wound too tight for.....well.....well for everywhere, really!

Tuesday, 18 September 2007.

I wish I'd sung this! For non-Americans, and with apologies to all the smart arses out there who already knew, the FCC is the Federal Communications Commission and it monitors TV and radio output in the States - a sort of broadcast police - while the EPA is the Yanks' so-called Environmental Protection Agency, a body which does exactly the opposite of what it says on the can. (P.S. We went to the same school, you know? Eric and me, that is, not George, Martha, Dick and Condoleeza and me. I don't think they went to school.) P.P.S. Please see below if you are I Like The View, Malc or Doris.

To Make You Laugh and Cry

I was listening to this on a Sunday, the very-soon-to-be ex-Mrs Pither is a Catholic, Tom Lehrer is one of my all-time heroes and this is one of his best.............no other reasons. On a more sombre note (and with thanks to Fish for coming up with this Woman's-Own-passes-the-time-in-the-dentist's-waiting-room nonsense), why not get a computer to tell you that you are a waste of space and your life is a sham of a mockery of a farce? Ok, it's from one of those poxy dating sites but...go on, take the test. You ain't got much to beat!!
This Is My Life, Rated
Life: 4.2
Mind: 4.1
Body: 2.7
Spirit: 8
Friends/Family: 1.6
Love: 0
Finance: 5.9
Take the Rate My Life Quiz
Apparently, in my case, "computer say 'no!'"

I First Saw This When I Was Little - And Loved It! I Hope That Explains a Few Things

Fuck, Fuckety, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck

It has been pointed out to me that, particularly for one whose profession is supposedly literary, my language is getting worse. My use of the "F" word is, I am told, far too prevalent and hence loses impact. To those who share this view I suggest you watch the following:

Tony Blair Isn't a Burglar - But If He Was.........

In the spirit of Gustav Holst's Jupiter and Manfred Mann's Earth Band, I feel like raising a smile today. The Big Green Thing alerted me to this and, for no other reason than to raise a smile on an otherwise crap Wednesday, I think it has to be shared. Grantham shall not have him - when he gets out of prison.

Life On The Edge - No Net.

I was wrong when I feared it might be a dull weekend, what with my pals being away, my soon-to-be ex-wife in rehab and only the dogs to play with. How wrong can a man be? This much fun must surely be illegal? Just click to see the japes and hoots I am having! Click again to see how things got REALLy exciting! Tomorrow we're going to chase pigeons.

The Good Old U.S. of A. - Guardians of Freedom and Democracy. Nothing to Be Scared of, Then?

Be honest........

IT'S THE QUIZ OF THE WEEK! JUST SCROLL DOWN AND HIT "FULL QUIZ".