21/04/08
Crazy sent around a couple of amusing videos:
Homemade
Olympics
Cucumber Sandwich
Lisa sent me this, saying "I swear this was really written by you and not some guy from Maidenhead" and I'd have to agree (especially as I'm in the middle of applying for Indefinite Leave to Remain):
Dear Minister,
I'm in the process of renewing my passport but I am a total loss
to understand or believe the hoops I am being asked to jump
through.
How is it that Bert Smith of T.V. Rentals Basingstoke has my
address and telephone number and knows that I bought a satellite
dish from them back in 1994, and yet, the Government is still
asking me where I was born and on what date?
How come that nice West African immigrant chappy who comes round
every Thursday night with his DVD rentals van can tell me every
film or video I have had out since he started his business up
eleven years ago, yet you still want me to remind you of my last
three jobs, two of which were with contractors working for the
government?
How come the T.V. detector van can tell if my T.V. is on, what
channel I am watching and whether I have paid my licence or not,
and yet if I win the government run lottery they have no idea I
have won or where I am and will keep the bloody money to
themselves if I fail to claim in good time.
Do you people do this by hand?
You have my birth date on numerous files you hold on me,
including the one with all the income tax forms I've filed for
the past 30-odd years.
It's on my health insurance card, my driver's licence, on the
last four passports I've had, on all those stupid customs
declaration forms I've had to fill out before being allowed off
the planes and boats over the last 30 years, and all those
insufferable census forms that are done every ten years and the
electoral registration forms I have to complete, by law, every
time our lords and masters are up for re-election.
Would somebody please take note, once and for all, I was born in
Maidenhead on the 4th of March 1957, my mother's name is Mary,
her maiden name was Reynolds, my father's name is Robert, and
I'd be absolutely astounded if that ever changed between now and
the day I die!
I apologise Minister. I'm obviously not myself this morning. But
between you and me, I have simply had enough! You mail the
application to my house, then you ask me for my address. What is
going on? Do you have a gang of Neanderthals working there? Look
at my damn picture.. Do I look like Bin Laden? I don't want to
activate the Fifth Reich for God's sake! I just want to go and
park my weary backside on a sunny, sandy beach for a couple of
week's well-earned rest away from all this crap.
Well, I have to go now, because I have to go to back to
Salisbury and get another copy of my birth certificate because
you lost the last one.
AND to the tune of 60 quid! What a racket THAT is!! Would it be
so complicated to have all the services in the same spot to
assist in the issuance of a new passport the same day? But
nooooo, that'd be too damn easy and maybe make sense. You'd
rather have us running all
over the place like chickens with our heads cut off, then find
some ****** to confirm that it's really me on the goddamn
picture - you know... the one where we're not allowed to smile
in in case we look as if we are enjoying the process!
Hey, you know why we can't smile? 'Cause we're totally jacked
off!
I served in the armed forces for more than 25 years including
over ten years at the Ministry of Defence in London. I have had
security clearances which allowed me to sit in the Cabinet
Office, five seats away from the Prime Minister while he was
being briefed on the first Gulf War and I have been doing
volunteer work for the British Red
Cross ever since I left the Services. However, I have to get
someone 'important' to verify who I am -- you know, someone like
my doctor... who, before he got his medical degree 6 months ago
WAS LIVING IN PAKISTAN....
Yours sincerely,
An Irate British Citizen.
