Dear Sirs,
I'm in the process of renewing my passport, and still cannot believe
this. How is it that Sky Television has my address and telephone number
and knows that I bought a bleeding satellite dish from them back in
1977, and yet, the Government is still asking me where I was bloody
born and on what date.
For Christ sakes, do you guys do this by hand? My birth date you have
on my pension book, and it is on all the income tax forms I've filed
for the past 30 years. It is on my National Health card, my driving
license, my car insurance, on the last eight damn passports I've had,
on all those stupid customs declaration forms I've had to fill out
before being allowed off the plane over the last 30 years, and all
those insufferable census forms.
Would somebody please take note, once and for all, that my mother's
name is Mary Anne, my father's name is Robert and I'd be
abso-fucking-lutely astounded if that ever changed between now
and when I die!!!!!!
I apologise, I'm really pissed off this morning. Between you an' me,
I've had enough of this bullshit! You send the application to my house,
then you ask me for my fucking address!!!!
What is going on? Do you have a gang of Neanderthal arseholes workin'
there? Look at my damn picture. Do I look like Bin Laden? I don't want
to dig up Yasser Arafat, for shit sakes. I just want to go and park
my arse on some sandy beach somewhere. And would someone please tell
me, why would you give a shit whether I plan on visiting a farm in
the next 15 days? If I ever got the urge to do something weird to
a chicken or a goat, believe you me, you'd be the last fucking people
I'd want to tell!
Well, I have to go now, 'cause I have to go to the other end of the
poxy city to get another fucking copy of my birth certificate, to the
tune of £30. 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??
Nooooooooooooo, that'd be too damn easy and maybe make sense. You'd
rather have us running all over the fuckin' place like chickens with
our heads cut off, then have to find some arsehole to confirm that
it's really me on the damn picture - you know, the one where we're not
allowed to smile?! (bureaucratic fuckin' morons) Hey, do you know why
we couldn't smile if we wanted to? Because we're totally pissed off!
Signed
An Irate Citizen.
P.S. Remember what I said above about the picture and getting someone
to confirm that it's me? Well, my family has been in this country
since 1776 .......... I have served in the military for something
over 30 years and have had full security clearances over 25 of those
years enabling me to undertake highly secretive missions all over
the world.
......... However, I have to get someone 'important' to verify who I am
- you know, someone like my doctor - WHO WAS BORN AND RAISED IN
FUCKING PAKISTAN !
Sincerely,
