Saturday, April 08, 2006

Royal Mail “service”

It's been annoying me for a couple of weeks, and now, just as my compensation payment looms, I feel no less aggrieved and will herewith vent my spleen.

While in Venice last month, being the fucking nice uncle that I am, I bought my two nephews and niece a Venetian mask each. Wife and I spent a not-inconsiderable amount of time in a tourist-oriented but nonetheless media-praised mask-maker's shop and chose three masks that we thought the kids would like.

Given the first paragraph of this post, you undoubtedly know where I'm going with this...

On our return to the UK, we boxed them up nicely, all well padded with bubble wrap and newspaper, and sent them on their merry way to... well, as it turns out, nowhere. They're lost – more than likely never to be seen again. Either that or they'll turn up in about 40 years' time, since that's not entirely uncommon.

And it's not the money. They cost just €15 each, and I should get back virtually all of that in compensation. It's the postal-system reliability factor. And the fact that they're gone, with no record of their ever having existed, like Kaiser Soze.

It's really fucking irritating. I can't even express how annoyed I am. You know, you make an effort – a selfless gesture – and you might just as well have not bothered.

Yeah, yeah – other countries have worse postal systems, it's true. But at least the unfortunate inhabitants of those lands already have their eyes open to the fact. We have "royal mail" – you know, it's royal, so it must be really fucking good. Turns out, like most things British, it's just a bit shit.


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