What's Big, Red and Does Sod All?

I have been a relatively happy little bunny lately and that is a very dangerous state in which to be. You see, when the urge takes you to skip along while singing "hello flowers, hello birds, hello world" all the time you tend to lose sight of the fact that life is abso-fucking-lutely shite and almost every-bastard-one in it is a complete and utter TOSSER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

These truths I hold to be self evident and I was reminded of them when I toyed with the idea of towing the legal line by taxing The Wardrobe. I should have known better because this involved, as it turned out, reliance on those princes among pricks and kings among cunts.......the Post Office!!
The avenue leading to complete car conformity was closed off to me yesterday as I was unable to lay my hands on the required moolah (47 years fucking old and I couldn't even scrape together £99 soddin' quid!!). Undeterred, and still in a mellow frame of mind, I did some fiscal juggling and by the time the sun set I had managed to unearth the necessary from various corners of Pitherworld - too late for the Post Office, yes. Too late for the law, indeed, but probably in enough time to keep the filth from my door, stick two fingers up to the neigbours and do my duty as a good citizen.
The sun duly came up today (something which never fails to at once surprise and depress me) and so I steeled myself for a trip into the village to pay my belated dues. MoT certificate - check! Vehicle registration document - check! Insurance certificate - oops! Where the fuck was it? I renewed my policy in August and the money had been coming out of the Bank of Pither since so.......where the fuck was my certificate? A quick call to the insurance company certainly put my mind at ease:

"I haven't received my insurance certificate."
"Yes you have."
"What!! All right then, what did I have for breakfast this morning?"
"How am I supposed to know that?"
"Well, you seem to be pretty well acquainted with other things that go on round here. How can YOU possibly KNOW I received it?"
"Because we sent it out."
"My dear woman, sending something out and it having been received are two entirely different things. I assure you I have NOT received a certificate."
"Computer says it was sent out last month."
"During the postal strike?"
"Yes."
"Define for me the word 'idiocy'"
"So. S'not my fault."
"Pray explain how it might be mine?"
"Do you want another one?"
"That would be simply lovely!"
"It's £26 for a copy."
"Pardon my exasperation at that news but.....you are having a bleedin' giraffe, are you not?"
"We never joke here at Nobbit, Bodgit and Leggit."
"Have you thought of charging the Post Office £26 and just sending me a replacement certificate?"
"Nope."
"Thank you for all your assistance."
"Happy to help."

I now have to wait for a cover note to arrive.....yes, you guessed it......through the post. I can't do it online or over the phone because...well...well just because. The result is I am now officially a desperado, a ruthless bandit, a criminal, a callous villain on the run from justice. Publicising this fact on the internet is probably not the wisest thing I've ever done, particularly as my nephew is a copper, but there you go.

My final steps back into the real world were taken when I later phoned an assurance company to which I had written a week ago.

"Hello. I wrote to you last week about my policy and I wondered if there was any news?"
"You haven't written to us!"
"You're not related to the woman at the insurance company are you?"
"What?"
"Sorry, I just seem to recall a similar conversation I had earlier today. I did write to you, I can assure you - get it? Assure you!!! Never mind."
"When did you write?"
"Last Thursday."
"Oh, that'll be the Post Office. They're useless, aren't they?"

So it's good to be back in Crapworld again. I shall try not to stray into Happyland again. In the meantime, the Post Office can send itself to Grantham. Second thoughts, I will take it personally or else it will never get there!

Editor's Note: (This is also true) An hour after finishing writing the above there was a postal delivery at the Towers. The drop contained notification from my local hospital of an appointment for physiotherapy......last Thursday!!!