A repost, but I was quite proud of it.
Dear Prime Minister Rudd,

I am a very happy 32 year-old resident of Australia, who never fails to extol her virtues to all whose ear he is able to bend in the regard.

It therefore came as some distress to me and my 63 year-old mother (visiting Sydney to say goodbye to her dying sister) to be accosted by police sniffer dogs as we exited Town Hall Station.

I am a man who is loth to exaggerate, Minister Rudd, and so I feel a certain anticipation in using the word "accosted" but my mother is quite literally bruised (bruised, sir!) from the encounter with the good pup. So enthusiastic was he to alert his kind masters to the particulars of my personal scent that he broke the vessels under her skin brushing her aside to press his nose between my buttocks.

But I tell you, Mister Rudd (may I call you Kevin?) it was a great comfort to me to see that the young uniformed masters of the aforementioned pooch were really quite eager to see that I was unharmed. They kindly gave me a thorough physical examination and removed all the contents of my bag and pockets in the centre of the station for all to see, and left them on the ground in a very expressively arranged heap for me to pick up.

In my haste to leave these fine officers of the law to their clearly pressing duties, I hope that I did not soil the premises of the station with any forgotten examples of my randomly strewn belongings. If you find any souvenirs of the Blue Mountains obstructing pedestrian traffic, you should be able to track down my address through the Sydney Police, who were almost worryingly keen to know it. I believe they entered me into some kind of lottery, as I saw the word "POT" written next to my captured details.

My mother, being a denizen of a far inferior foreign country whose uncouth ways are comparatively lax in matters of statutory enforcement, was so thoroughly impressed by witnessing her son held spreadeagled against a grating by armed men in boots that I dare say she will not even sleep tonight. Adult men humiliated, middle-aged women wide awake. Every day we just get better, don't we?

I accept, Kevin, that I as a grown man cannot always be trusted to maintain my own moral standards in the face of all the temptations in the world, but can we not apply some more courtesy, dare I say a little gentlemanliness to the procedure of instructively violating my person? Some smiles, maybe a handshake? Certainly after the sort of intimacy the custodians of Sydney's peace enjoyed at my expense, I am entitled to at least a beer.

Yours faithfully,

Ladyfingers
(Ladyfingers is in your wardrobe,, Fri 3 Sep 2010, 7:48, 3 replies)

I get sick of those fuckers at Redfern, trying to catch out the students.
Never seem to bother about all the wankers who run through the red lights at the crossing down the road, though.
( Colonel Boris "...a desperate Buzzfeed imitation...", Fri 3 Sep 2010, 12:49, closed)

So did you actually have any pot?

( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Fri 3 Sep 2010, 12:55, closed)

Dear Ms Ladyfingers


I acknowledge receipt of your letter, and extend my deepest apologies for the incident, as only a public servant slash letter monkey can.

I regret to inform you that the minister you contacted is no longer Prime Minister, having suffered an unfortunate back injury in the past weeks. I shall forward your the Prime Minister post haste.

Please not that there is a 3 to 10 week time-frame for replies from the Prime Minister, a time-frame which may be exponentially increased as there is no official prime minister at the given time; and the caretaker government is too busy listening to the complaints of rural independents to give a toss about any other citizen.

Kindest regards,

Office Monkey.
( glasnt is playing herself off., Sat 4 Sep 2010, 4:34, closed)