Got this in my junk mail, I suppose some civil servant leaked it - but I found it relevant and relatable. My sympathy to whoever wrote it.
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 and 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 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 no, 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 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 verif! y 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.