Dave Gorman’s post over here reminded me of my own fist-shaking, rage-inducing Post Office moment this week. We got a note through the door from the postman telling us that the Postie had tried to deliver SOMETHING EXCITING to us but had been unable to because insufficient postage had been paid by the sender. Long story short, if we wanted it we’d have to pop into town and hand over £1.42.

(All parcels contain SOMETHING EXCITING and every single one of those little notes the Postie puts through the letterbox is like a golden ticket to a fabulous world of adventure; like the end of Crackerjack.)

Anyway, a week later I finally remembered the thing was there; a week after that I’d kicked myself enough for forgetting and, finally, a further 7 days passed in which I really began to wag my finger at myself.

Eventually I pitched up at Chorlton Post Office, forked over the £1.42 to recieve…

Junk Mail from Debenhams…

Congratulating me for using them as my Wedding Service….

And reminding me that we still have a £50 gift voucher to spend with them…

Except now it’s more like £48.58.

The pricks.

Sighing softly, I screwed the mail up into a ball and threw it onto the streets of Chorlton. A passing old lady tutted at me and shuffled crossly on.

And the cycle of violence continues.