More rubbish through the door
in spite of all the ‘No Junk’ words.
I grab the pile of leaflets and the
fast food ads, and hunt the postie
down a mere few doors along and
with the strongest terms, I press
the garbage back into his hand and
in rebuking tones I let him know my
views about abetting with the Royal
Mail to denude rain forests in the
Amazon and wider world beyond
You’ll have to go on on-line, he said
his face a scared cat pallor. What for?
I asked. Have you no say in matters
of the GPO as once was envied by the
world. His answer was subdued. So
OK, I know that I was rude to him,
that much I must admit. But don’t
these posties ever get the point of our
annoyance at the things they do to earn
their bosses yet more bucks, in spite of
postage stamps. Or is it me that groans
like Victor Meldrew on the yesteryear
TV. Forgive me if I have sinned I muse
since not a single drop of booze has
passed my lips since God knows when.
No excuse exists for this unwanted crap.