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Dear Minister,
Passport application
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 TV 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 TV detector van can tell if my TV 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 weeks of 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 makes too much 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? Because we're totally fed up!
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' and who knows me and can verify who I am - you know,
someone like my doctor . . . . who, in my case, has only recently
come to the UK after getting his medical degree . . . !
Yours sincerely,
An Irate British Citizen
Contributed by Bob Grieves 12.3.08
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