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.
