Don’t be a twat, Pat

Pat
Postmen. They’re never fucking satisfied, are they?

Don’t get me wrong, we need them, but mooching around slotting a few bits of folded-up paper through holes in pieces of wood for a couple of hours a day then knocking off at three o’clock isn’t the most mind-boggling day job on the planet, is it? I mean, it’s not rocket surgery or anything.

But some of them still manage to balls it up. I get other people’s letters all the time. I even got someone’s contact lenses once – bet they didn’t see that coming (!). Which must mean important pieces of communication with my name on are languishing on someone else’s kitchen table gathering dust, too. Seriously, how is it possible that delivering a simple portion of mail can be that difficult to get right? If it says 587a on it, you sling it through the gap with 587a written above it and, bingo, everyone’s happy.

Yet, despite being so consistently bad at performing such a straightforward task, those don’t-know-how-good-they’ve-got-it posties are getting all shouty and demanding a whole lot more of the queen’s finest green sheets and that. In a recession, when countless private-sector workers are either scouring the recruitment pages for a job or lucky to have one.

And now, to add one more cheeky insult to what is already quite a stomach-churning injury, the world’s best postman, the ‘alpha mail’, the curly-haired, blue-uniformed, cat-fancying post machine we all thought we could always rely on, has decided he’s fed up, too.

Yep, in a new movie, planned for 2010, Postman Pat turns his back on the post-hungry residents of Greendale and their inexplicably sized noses and heads off in search of stardom to appear under the bright lights of a “Britain’s Got Talent-style TV talent contest”.

Now, I’ve got a question: why? What kind of message is that sending to young, impressionable stop-motion animation fans? That everyone, no matter how modest and hard-working, really just wants to pack the real world and elbow grease in and take an in-front-of-camera shortcut to money and fame.

If we’re not careful, we can forget about having anyone to do things like deliver the mail in the future; fuck having an infrastructure – we’re bringing up a generation of nappy-fillers to believe they can only be validated as a successful person, only lead a happy, fulfilling life if some ludicrously haircutted erection like Simon Cowell says they’re a bit handy at churning out a tune and possess the cocking X-factor.

What Royal Mail staff, and especially Postman Pat, need to realise is that, in the long run, you’re not going to get rewarded for anything that you haven’t put the hours into. Just deliver the post and stop whining now, please.

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