An open letter from Royal Mail (satire)

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OVER the last few months, we’ve watched the popularity of open letters grow and grow.

From Sinead O’Connor to Roger Waters, it seems everyone wants supposedly one-on-one communications to be read by absolutely everybody then discussed at length in the newspapers.

Why, this very morning there’s a wonderfully entertaining open letter in The Times from Eleanor Shaw of Harrogate to her husband detailing exactly when, where and why she’s been having it off with the au pair.

But I’m afraid there is a big problem with this new craze for open letters: we don’t make any money from them.

If you’re pissed of with someone, send them a letter personally and get a chain of correspondence going. Maybe get some other family members or legal representatives mailing them poisonous notes, or send them a creepy dead animal via our excellent Parcelforce service.

“Not my problem,” you might be thinking. “After all, hasn’t Royal Mail been privatised?”

Well yes, of course we have. But don’t think for one second that our hand won’t be straight in the taxpayer’s pocket if our profits fall.

And you don’t want to make us angry. You know where the phrase ‘going postal’ comes from? Do you want to see Postman Pat with a shotgun in one hand and a ‘Sorry, you are f***ing dead’ card in the other?

It’s time for you to re-acquaint yourselves with a little thing called an envelope. Write a letter, pop it in, put a stamp on while moaning about how much they cost these days and we’ll get it to the recipient the next day, or month or whenever.

Remember, we get up earlier than you and we know where you live.

Yours, Royal Mail.