Remarkable Parking Fines...
Discussion
I am currently in posession of a £90 'penultimate demand' type bill from the local robbers' department.
There's no defending these unpardonable transgressions by yours truly, especially since they've arisen during the 'lockdown' periods of a Saturday evening (usually about 1845 hours and the car parked 'illegally' for semi-security reasons) when there's hardly a soul or motorist about but the valiant defenders of my human rights are always ready, lurking in the shadows and ready to pounce the moment one's back is turned...
I've spent rather too much on these infernal impositions over the last three months but I am an entirely irresistable, soft target.
How is it possible that these awful little men are able to derive an income from my labours and then perpetually punish me for absolutely nothing, at the most innocuous of moments arising from the most tenuous of circumstances for the privilege?
It's got to be the most senseless of Redlivingstonian economics ever postulated: a 'social service' that operates way beyond any morally acceptable remit and frankly behaving more like cowboy fly clampers than caring, sharing council folk.
Utterly infuriating.
I'm wondering which of the following, pitifully petty gestures most appropriate to emphasise my chagrin?
(i) Send them a cheque, explaining that since I'm "clearly an unwitting punter of your miserably intense association, perhaps I should open an account with you and would £300 do for now, to give me credit against March's oppression and lest I forget, F@CK OFF!"
or
(ii) Send them 9,000 cheques for a penny each with the words "festering stealth tax of singular testicled horse shagees" stenciled across the back and an accompanying letter with two fingers raised, Agincourt stylee and the words F@CK ORF & DIE YOU KIDDY FIDDLING BOUNDAHS! ceremoniously pinned thereupon?
Answers please to be submitted in the usual manner and feel free to throw in a few gratuitous anti-Bliar diatribes: he deserves it, the loathesome little sh1tehawk.
There's no defending these unpardonable transgressions by yours truly, especially since they've arisen during the 'lockdown' periods of a Saturday evening (usually about 1845 hours and the car parked 'illegally' for semi-security reasons) when there's hardly a soul or motorist about but the valiant defenders of my human rights are always ready, lurking in the shadows and ready to pounce the moment one's back is turned...
I've spent rather too much on these infernal impositions over the last three months but I am an entirely irresistable, soft target.
How is it possible that these awful little men are able to derive an income from my labours and then perpetually punish me for absolutely nothing, at the most innocuous of moments arising from the most tenuous of circumstances for the privilege?
It's got to be the most senseless of Redlivingstonian economics ever postulated: a 'social service' that operates way beyond any morally acceptable remit and frankly behaving more like cowboy fly clampers than caring, sharing council folk.
Utterly infuriating.
I'm wondering which of the following, pitifully petty gestures most appropriate to emphasise my chagrin?
(i) Send them a cheque, explaining that since I'm "clearly an unwitting punter of your miserably intense association, perhaps I should open an account with you and would £300 do for now, to give me credit against March's oppression and lest I forget, F@CK OFF!"
or
(ii) Send them 9,000 cheques for a penny each with the words "festering stealth tax of singular testicled horse shagees" stenciled across the back and an accompanying letter with two fingers raised, Agincourt stylee and the words F@CK ORF & DIE YOU KIDDY FIDDLING BOUNDAHS! ceremoniously pinned thereupon?
Answers please to be submitted in the usual manner and feel free to throw in a few gratuitous anti-Bliar diatribes: he deserves it, the loathesome little sh1tehawk.
Incorrigible said:
Possibly a bad time to mention it.....
But have you considered parking legaly ??
Someone suggested it to me and I have to admit to being a little sceptical. But after only parking legaly for the last 5 years I haven't recieved a single ticket.......
Maybe it's voodoo
Yes, Ben but I don't fancy being lumped over the head after hours, out of street lit illumination by some grubby smash & grab merchant, purely out of reverence for some pointless by-law which serves nobody, benefits no-one and in any case, is a trangression for literally 30-60 seconds.
I knew it was a bad time to mention it Happens everywhere. Our street which is far from being a major arterial route and therefore not vital to be kept open for the health of this city is a mixture of residents parking and meter bays. Parking control commences at 8.30am with half an hours grace for residents with permits parked in meter bays or on single yellows. At 8.05 this AM, there was a clamp van parked in the street waiting for kick off.
9000 cheques if you have patience to write them all out!
9000 cheques if you have patience to write them all out!
DeR, I reckon you need either of two things.
Firstly, a shed. Not an arboreally-derived structure 'twixt house and orchard, but something vaguely Escort-shaped, ideally unwashed, with an odd panel or two and a mirror hanging off. This, when positioned with precision 'pon the primrose parallels, should ring warning bells with the backstreet boys that they're not likely to see any of the owner's money.
Secondly, and presuming that taste and decorum permit your posterior never to grace the interior of such a conveyance as that hereuntofore postulated, you need another 'escort', preferably Hummer-shaped, with blacked-out windows, untraceable plates and a competent complement of colleagues whose bearing might best be described as 'heavy'...
Firstly, a shed. Not an arboreally-derived structure 'twixt house and orchard, but something vaguely Escort-shaped, ideally unwashed, with an odd panel or two and a mirror hanging off. This, when positioned with precision 'pon the primrose parallels, should ring warning bells with the backstreet boys that they're not likely to see any of the owner's money.
Secondly, and presuming that taste and decorum permit your posterior never to grace the interior of such a conveyance as that hereuntofore postulated, you need another 'escort', preferably Hummer-shaped, with blacked-out windows, untraceable plates and a competent complement of colleagues whose bearing might best be described as 'heavy'...
hut49 said:
I know you can't polish one, but can you write a cheque on a turd?
It used to be the case that as long as the cheque was 'permanent', you could write it on just about anything. Boiled eggs were a favourite. I seem to recall someone using an animal, in a famous publicity stunt...?
I worked for a bank around the time that those daft Papermate pens with the erasable ink, came out. It caused a lot of worry for a while, we had to warn people not to write cheques to dodgy car salesmen using the erasable pen...
wedg1e said:
I know you can't polish one, but can you write a cheque on a turd?
I seem to recall someone using an animal, in a famous publicity stunt...?
O/T:-I think it was a royalties cheque from Spike Milligan's (sp) publishers which was branded on the side of a cow.
ON/T:- I'd go with 10 cheques for £9 each, far less hard on the old ink pot.
Might like to try crimson ink with a covering letter explaining that it was really blood, not ink, with which you had loaded you pen.
Heard that this was done by a chap paying his Tax a few years ago. legend has it that the merry tax collector sent him a plaster.
I'm seriously inclined to do something futiley stupid, for purely cathartic reasons.
Tonker - Notlob Metro - as it likes to call itself these days, is indeed the guilty nest of blood leeching, council vipers.
Apparently, we boast the second best collection/enforcemnet rate for this type of essential localised council prosecution in the land.
The venerable denizens of said august body then have the temerity to publish and distribute a monthly propoganda rag which proclaims what super value we're all getting - 'cos the Council Audit Commission told us so!
Rather than spending my money on masochistic-feeling traffic persecution, perhaps a few groats aimed in the general direction of the town's scarcely believable road surfaces might not be a bad idea?
Despicable shower.
Tonker - Notlob Metro - as it likes to call itself these days, is indeed the guilty nest of blood leeching, council vipers.
Apparently, we boast the second best collection/enforcemnet rate for this type of essential localised council prosecution in the land.
The venerable denizens of said august body then have the temerity to publish and distribute a monthly propoganda rag which proclaims what super value we're all getting - 'cos the Council Audit Commission told us so!
Rather than spending my money on masochistic-feeling traffic persecution, perhaps a few groats aimed in the general direction of the town's scarcely believable road surfaces might not be a bad idea?
Despicable shower.
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