This was actually taken from a passport application and a member of staff copied it as it made her laugh all day.
Subject: Passport Application
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 tosser 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.
