Royal Mail [4]

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I should like to deliver a first class cunting to the Royal Mail. I could deliver it second class but it would take another 2 days to turn up…
Finding myself at my lowest ebb, in utter hopelessness, with absolutely no other option, (including walking to the destination parcel-in-hand), then I am forced to call upon the “services” of the Royal Mail, or, indeed ParcelFarce to deliver items for me.
Overlooking the base ignominy of standing in a queue of curmudgeonly cunts with all the time in the world, notwithstanding the cataclysmic impertinence of the “What’s in the package ?” line of interrogation from the boss-eyed bellend behind the bulletproof glass – Here’s the cuntiest part:

“What’s the value ?” Fair enough question you may think.

No – If I wish to send anything VALUABLE, via these feckless fuck-buckets, then I must pay them an extra sum to insure MY package against:

1. Some light-fingered Royal Mail cunt taking a fancy to it as it passes through THEIR system.
2. Some heavy-handed Royal Mail cunt bouncing/booting/lobbing it around the various bins whilst it passes through THEIR system.
3. It mysteriously disappears whilst it passes, etc, etc.

WTF ? That’s like my local MOT garage saying they will test my car for the usual £44 but as it’s a classic Porsche* and therefore VALUABLE, I must pay some extra insurance in case:

1. Our lads take a fancy to your car and fuck off with it
2. Our lads drop it off the fucking ramp
3. It mysteriously disappears whilst it passes… (or in this case, fails).

Royal Mail ? Fucking cheeky CUNTS

*No, I don’t have a classic Porsche. It’s an old Astra Estate with 250K on the clock.

Nominated by Cunt Reviled

25 thoughts on “Royal Mail [4]”

  1. If it makes you feel any better our dog once bit the postman. She’s a territorial cunt our dog and pro Brexit.

    • My staffies are pro Brexit too. But French bulldogs — well we know where they stand the pop eyed fat bastards.

      • Perhaps the ugly French cunts can be sent back to euroland if we ever leave the EU.

  2. C R….as someone who has just ‘lost’ a parcel in the post worth £50,
    and have been sent a small booklet of stamps in ‘compensation’
    for the loss. may i be the first to Cunt your excellent cunting

  3. What’s in the (square, anonymous) parcel? A motorcycle clutch basket, you cunt. What does it look like? (drops package on scales, and breaks them) Revenge is sweet.

    • …and I’m still wondering what a lightfingered ParcelFarce operative wanted with the optical beamsplitter plate which never arrived.

  4. Peaceful attack in France. Cultural enrichment in action, two dead apparently. Cunts.

    • I sense ‘mental health’ issues on the so called BBC news tonight.

      • The cunt has been shot dead after killing three people. He was Moroccan apparently. Who’d have thunk it ?

  5. I once marked a parcel “Fragile” and the ParcelFarce chimp who collected it said “Ooooh, I wouldn’t do that! At the depot, ‘Fragile’ means ‘Drop it’ and ‘Extremely Fragile’ means ‘Drop it then kick it'”

    • In my teenage years, I received a package of box-sets of LPs from Tandy’s in Brum, a great place.

      It looked as if the RM lorry had backed over them, reducing about two dozen LPs to a wodge about 1/2″ thick.

      Thoughtfullythen wrapped up in a tough plaggy bag, emblazoned with the catchy slogan –

      “Royal Mail – Taking care of your Post”

      Utter cuntitude, even c. 1976

      • and what a good reminder of TANDY’S !
        they will soon be ALL gone

        and not a ‘cunt’ written in this entry
        can I claim a record?

  6. Paid about £30 to have a next day delivery of a PC to my daughter in Reading. She was in flat C, taking a day off work and stayed in all day as needed the PC urgently.

    The neighbour in flat A (who was also in) had a card put through her letterbox saying they could not make the delivery as no one was in. There was no door knocking or a doorbell ring, just a card.

    Phoned up the same afternoon and very politely lost my temper with their fucking incompetence and was promised a full refund. The PC was delivered the following day to the correct address however had to chase the refund which arrived several days later.

    • Im near Reading and we have a few businesses on the property 99% of the time there is someone here, but the wankers always leave “you weren’t in cards” im sure they send a van out with just red cards and no parcels so they can get you to the post office to tempt you with more exciting ways to spend your dabloons with the minges.

  7. It’s a hostage situation apparently. Thank fuck the weather is improving……I don’t want to hang about in the freezing cold holding those fucking candles.

  8. If, like me, you’re tired of long queues at the post office, waiting ages to get to the front to have you’re parcel weighed and the correct stamps attached, try taking a second package with you.

    A package that was delivered to your address in error. Let everyone in front of you know that you are not Sergei Skripal and you have never ordered anything from Moscow.
    Ensure that one corner of said package is damaged and have a strange substance dripping out.

    Should get you to the front of the queue quickly.
    Or maybe the six o’clock news….

  9. We had 4 parcels delivered by various agencies on Monday. All 4 were where we specified they should be left if we were out. There was one Parcel Farce failed delivery and a note. At post office. But not the nearest one, about 4 miles but at a remote location 8 miles away.
    What a bunch of cunts.

  10. The Parcel Farce cunts carry bird feathers around with them. They use them to knock on your door and then post a card that says “Sorry we missed you” or similar wankery.

  11. Parcel Force are cunts… They gently tap on the door, stay there for a second, then they fuck off… Then they leave any parcels with this useless sabu cunt at a miles away post office, and the daft parking stanley twat demands all sorts of ID and it’s easier pulling teeth… Cunts…

  12. Our postman is fucking brilliant, though his love life is a total disaster. And no, he has not been rogering my missus. Not that she wouldn’t feel the benefit of course.

    Can’t vouch for the cunt next door at No.14…

  13. We’ve got a new postwoman who keeps leaving one of my neighbour’s post at my address. I chuck it in the bin,he’s a Cunt. I haven’t said anything to her because she’s actually quite bonny and I wouldn’t want to upset her.

  14. I moved to a new place some years ago. Post office kept delivering my mail to next door (despite clearly being addressed to me at my address). I rang them to complain and ask why. “Because you haven’t got a postcode” was the “reason” given. “Ok, give me a postcode” I said. “Oh, nothing to do with us mate” was the fucking reply. Utter utter utter fucking CUNTS!!!

  15. Who else finds fucking elastic bands appearing like magic all over their local area and near the front door?
    Yes, the fucking royal mails gift, more bastard litter, and just to rub it, the lazy fat cunt walks on everyone’s grass cos he’s too fucking lazy to use the pavement
    The bone idle, shorts-in-winter-wearing fat cunt

  16. I live in B– Drive and there are also B– Road & B– Avenue. Nuff said I think – Royal (as in useless Jug-Ears type) Farce can fuck anything up.

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