Saturday, January 20

A treat

Just before christmas, we got online after a few woines, and oredered some Liam Show merchandise. Nothing too OTT, but a nice tshirt each, and a smart pair of undies to add to the collection.
So imagine to my disappointment that the little package from LA hadn't arrived by the time santa had shoved his fat arse back up the chimblie. Nor had it arrived by my birthday some 5 days after.

Nor by new years

Nor a week later.

Nor a week later.

Recently, I have been wondering what Her Majesty the Queen thinks about the phrase "royal mail" with her crown on it. This week I received a note from HM's postal service that my parcel had arrived and was awaiting collection from the post office. A lovely chirpy little card declairing that I had to pay ANOTHER £10.61p for customs clearance charge, which contained a £1.00 postal handling fee, and a mere week to heinie my heinie up to the mail centre. OH KAY you bastards. So we all know the postal service sucks, but I just couldn't believe that I had to collect the item myself, and still pay the exhorbitant fee. What bastards.

The stress of all this complaining is giving me wrinkles.



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1 Comments:

Blogger CyberPete said...

I'm sure the only reason they wanted to come collect it, was to see the model the stuff. You look so cute.

Of course here the procedure is the same, maybe it's by Royal demand that it has to be that way.

10:06 am  

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