First we had the Royal Snail™ delivering the post after most decent folk have gone out to work for the day (not me of course - one of the advantages of being a, er, resting celebrity), now we have queues backing up to Belgium every time we visit our Post Office™ here in the Millionaires' Playground.
Ever since the laughable 'consultation' followed by inevitable closure of our local, teeny-tiny Post Offices™ in January, the main Post Office™ in the High Street has been rammed. A half hour or 45 minute wait before you get to the counter now seems to be the norm. Very annoying when all you want to do is pay in your 45p BBC royalty cheque from a repeat of that brief appearance on Wogan in 1992.
Meanwhile, over on the seedy, smoky north side of the island, our beloved council looks set to dispose of part of Margate's splendid old Post Office™ in Cecil Square. As ever the Uranians are on the lookout for assets to flog, and apparently they own a bit of it. Presumably this doesn't mean the Post Office™ itself will close. Or does it?
Click here to see TDC's cost-cutting, asset-flogging proposals