Its an old joke, and a crap one as well, but its always fun. Pretend to do a crossword, and ask someone for help by telling them you’re stuck on the clue ‘ANGRY POSTMAN’. They’ll ummmm, they’ll ahhh, then they’ll say ‘How many letters?’. Don’t miss a beat, shout loudly at them ‘Too bleeding many’ then congratulate yourself on your comedy genius while your victim makes several pointed remarks regarding the provenance of your birth/ your habitual onanism.
However, of late, the answer could quite equally been ‘ 4,6’ . Maybe an anagram to help: ‘ ROB ANY ANUS’. Take your time.
Its now nearly a full month since Soubry made the claim that all the postal workers in Broxtowe are full supporters of the Tory plans to turn the Royal Mail into a crap privatised ‘service’, and despite pleas from all quarters to retract the statement, has failed to do so. Where is the apology, Anna? Lost in the post?
What I’m truly worried about is the feeling Anna believes her own statement, despite being faced with incredibly compelling evidence to the contrary. She is so lacking any insight that she imagines Royal Mail workers spend their lunch breaks sitting round the canteen discussing how placing the service into the free-market will bolster competitiveness and reward innovation, and if thats at the expense of their jobs, well, no matter, drip-down economic theory will eventually enrich their lives. Then they polish off their sandwich, salute the framed portrait of Ken Clarke, and get back to their work, proud to be greasing the wheels of British business.
Whats more annoying, is that until this story reaches some sort of conclusion, I can’t move on to write about a whole STACK of articles and investigations lined up, so my story on the supreme rubbishness of Cllr. Eric Kelly is on hold, as is my discovery of some of Tesco’s more controversial bed-fellows, and as for my expose on why cats might actually be Satan’s manifestation on Earth…back burner.
Come on Anna. Tell the Commons you’re sorry, tell the CWU and its members you’re sorry, and stop listening to everything Ken Clarke tells you. Cheers, duck.