Thursday, 11 February 2010

The Royal Mail Stole My Vulva

I hate the way that the only way you can complain to a lot of institutions is by filling in prohibitively long-winded and poorly-worded forms on their website. Never a person to speak to. Without wishing to sound cynical, or wildly paranoid, I must say I fear the non-user-friendliness of these forms might actually be deliberate. There’s nothing more likely to make a griping punter shut their traps and forget about it than a website that keeps logging them out. But I was determined. This was a serious issue. This was theft. And I didn’t see why the Royal Mail should get away with it. So I persevered, and in the section asking me to describe my grievance, I wrote the following:

‘The item in question was a small bottle of Vulva, the erotic vaginal scent of a desirable woman. This is apparently a feminine, tantalising, intimate scent and I was very much looking forward to it enhancing my increasingly dull fantasy life.

This is actually the second time that my Vulva has disappeared whilst in the care of the Royal Mail. The first time the entire package went missing, this time merely the Vulva itself. You must admit, it doesn’t look good. Take a man’s Vulva once, and he’ll put it down to carelessness. Twice and frankly, it starts to smell fishy.

Please investigate this matter at once and if you cannot find my Vulva and return it to me intact, I would like to know that the postman in question has been thoroughly ticked off. It really is a sad state of affairs when a man’s Vulva is not safe in the hands of a humble postie.

I am dismayed and seek immediate reassurance.’

The Royal Mail replied, and fairly promptly, but with a stock response. It's all ‘robust processes’ and ‘appropriate action’, and the concluding paragraph pretty much sums up their attitude toward my missing Vulva.

‘Once again, please accept my sincere apologies on behalf of Royal Mail for the problem you've had, and our thanks for taking the time to make us aware of this. Please be assured that we take letting our customers down seriously and will use this information to make further improvements.’

Yeah, right. Meanwhile, down at the sorting office, two bottles of prime Vulva are changing hands like schoolboy pornographs.

Sniff your letters. And never trust a postman. Or woman.

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Sky said...

all I can do is laugh at that.

Once I got a post card that said "we hope you like this sample of cereal!" and I was confused because there was no cereal so I popped out to ask the mailman before he left, and he turned around and handed me the cereal sample he had been eating. without a word.

I wonder if something similar happened to your ...parcel?

Anonymous said...

In the absence of your Vulva, real or otherwise, I offer you this. It looks like a vulva (sort of), is edible, and you can sneak it into the cinema and savour it when no one's looking. (I've just finished reading some of your movie reviews).

Careful, though, coz any surreptitious enjoyment of the vulva I am offering you will leave a trace around your chops.

A Twitter Friend xx

PS I still haven't recovered from Monday's blog post. I dreamt the 'vulva in a can' could talk – like the talking fava beans I once saw in a movie (can't think which movie, though). Most disconcerting.

justrestingmyeyes said...

Strange that your sexy scent has such a direct name, don't you think? Vulva. Not Vulvarino, not Vulvotica. Just...Vulva. It's very medical, very clinical. Suggests that if there was an equivalent made for admirers of the male form, it would be, what? Foreskin? Scrotal Sac? Semen? Nice.

Maybe in lieu of your Vulva, you could try remembering another scent you associate with erotic awakening, ya know? Like, my heart still skips a beat when I smell Lynx aftershave. Unfortunately it tends to always be, as it was at the time it meant a lot to me, smothered all over skanky teenage boys, so not so good nowadays.

clumpf said...

Sky's story made me laugh.

They've probably framed your letter down at the local sorting office. While sniffing your vulva.

Anonymous said...

You made me laugh out loud at the "starts to smell fishy" part!

Maria in Oregon

Anonymous said...

Yes, I also choked over 'starts to smell fishy', funny man.

Beleaguered Squirrel said...

Has it occurred to you it might be the vulva juice people who are ripping you off, rather than royal mail? They probably rely on most punters being too embarrassed to contact the mail and complain about missing girl-squirtage...

La Bête said...

No, because I didn't pay for the Vulva. Never paid for it in my life. Yet.