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.