Category Archives: Royal Mail

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

Royal Mail (3)

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Since we’re on the subject of shite institutions, I’m nominating the Royal Mail. Like a lot of the country, my part of England endured the kind of downpour that would have worried Noah. We currently have a new postie who, like a number of his predecessors, is a complete fuckwit of a cock womble. Even when it rains, this brain donor carries the post for the next few houses in his hand, instead of his bag like he’s supposed to.

Unlike us non-retards, there are a number of posties who seem oblivious to the fact that letters, which are generally made of paper, do not respond well to getting soaked. Yesterday, I received an A4 sized envelope which contained copies of my pension statements and details, which I’d had to send to the British Legion for a matter they’re helping me with. The envelope was so wet, it had disintegrated before the dumb shit had even brought it anywhere my house.

Consequently, a lot of personal info such as my NI number, bank details, pension details, full name, date of birth and even my Army service number became available to the postie. Now I’m not accusing him of stealing my identity or anything like that. However, it needed to be signed for and nobody was home at the time he tried to deliver it, which means it spent the night at the local sorting office, where EVERY Royal Mail employee who worked there had open access to it.

So this morning, after picking up my soggy mass of papier mache, I made a call to the main office in Manchester and got through to the lovely Charmain, who made it clear that she could not have given less of a fuck. After struggling to keep my calm, and threatening to make a personal appearance, I was put through to a manager, who turned out to be only marginally more intelligent than Charmain. Nice bloke though, I’ll give him that. He wasn’t sure what it was that I wanted apparently, and seemed surprised when I told him that I wanted the offending postie spoken to and reprimanded for not doing his fucking job properly.

He said that he’d look into it, but somehow I’m not convinced that will happen. How is possible that a supposed adult could not summon the wit to put the mail he was responsible for, into his fucking post bag, to stop it getting wet? So, Royal Mail, what a bunch of cunts.

Nominated by Quick Draw McGraw.

Royal Mail [2]

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The Royal Mail are cunts.

My cousin, Mark has applied for some night work over the Xmas period to get a few extra quid on top of his day job. He applied and they sent him an email telling him he’s been invited to something called a ‘registration event…’ But instead of giving him a date, time and place the cunts just sent a link: which leads to a fucking great big error page. He also tells me his application won’t even show up or print out either.

Anyway, he’s complained (and others too, no doubt), but the twats don’t seem arsed. It’s been three days since he got the message and their site is still fucked and riddled with problems. I’ve told him, if they can’t even provide a decent service and treat people properly then he shouldn’t even bother with them.

I hope TNT put them out of business eventually, the useless, clueless cunts…

Nominated by: Norman

Royal Mail

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Postman-Pat_2756337b

I’m nominating the Royal Mail. In particular I’m nominating my new postman. Until two years ago, I had a great postman. He had Asperger Syndrome, but he was brilliant. He delivered the mail in good time every day, and it was in excellent condition. Then he was replaced by a female postie. She was pretty decent at the job. Not as good as her predecessor, but she did a good job.

Two weeks ago, she was replaced by a new postie. And he’s a cunt. Sometimes the mail arrives in the morning, sometimes it arrives at midday, sometimes in the early afternoon. Twice so far, it’s turned up at 6pm. After a recent downpour, I came home to find TWO letters, that were so wet, they fell apart when I tried to open them. I may have mentioned that I’m archer. On Monday, I ordered a piece of equipment called a bow square. It’s basically a ruler, and is used for various measurements. Anyway, my bow square arrived today. Shoved through the letterbox with such force, the dumb cunt bent it.

I collared the twat, only to be given a shrug of his apelike shoulders, and the mumbled words, ‘I’m just doing me job mate”. Well no, fuckwit, you’re not ‘just doing your job”, because you’re job is not simply to put letters and parcels through letterboxes, it’s also to ensure that the mail you deliver is the same GOOD FUCKING CONDITION that it was despatched in.

I went to this numbnuts’ sorting office and complained to the manager, who made it clear he couldn’t give a fuck. So now I’m taking it further. The Royal Mail is SHITE. I used to be against privatisation. Now I look forward to the day when we can choose which postal service we use. Because if the Royal Mail can’t even be bothered to look after the letters and parcels that we place in their ‘care’, then they don’t deserve a monopoly.

Incidentally, one of the two letters was regarding a hospital appointment, and the other contained my car insurance docs. I had to phone the fucking hospital to find out when my appointment was, and I’ve had to ask Aviva to send my copies of the documents. If this shite ‘service’ continues, I’m afraid I’m going to be punching this fucker’s lights out.

Nominated by: Quick Draw McGraw