Recently, Leichhardt Council issued
me a penalty notice for disobeying a
no-stopping sign. I love the municipality of Leichhardt and would never break
their rules intentionally. Unfortunately, I was forced to park in a forbidden
space, due to a medical emergency. I hope this letter clears up the
misunderstanding.
Dear
Mayor Byrne, Leichhardt Municipal Council, and the State Debt Recovery
Office,
On 30th July 2013, between 11:48am and
11:50am (presumably 11:49am), I was issued with a $236 penalty notice for
disobeying a no-stopping sign in the delightful inner-west hamlet of Rozelle. As
embarrassing as it is, I'm writing to see if I may be excused from paying the
fine, on the grounds that I was suffering from violently explosive diarrhoea at
the time.
The evening before the fine was issued, I
ordered a beef vindaloo from a local Indian restaurant - a mistake I vehemently
regret. Later that night my stomach started ferociously churning, which sounded
like Chewbacca being sodomised by a jackhammer. As you can imagine, this was not
a pleasant sensation.
Then came the sweating.
Like Patrick Ewing in the
fourth quarter, a saline waterfall of perspiration cascaded from every pore on my
dehydrated body. This was
followed by a sudden wave of staggering nausea. In fact, it was the exact same
feeling I experienced when someone showed me the 2 Girls 1 Cup video. Have you seen it? If not, I wouldn't
Google it unless you're a hardcore scat fetishist. It's really gross.
Before I could make it to the toilet, I
projectile vomited a fiery torrent of curried magma across my bedroom. The spicy
tsunami destroyed everything in its path, including my Wests Tigers jersey,
which I often wear to display how proud I am to live in this superb
municipality. Eventually I reached the bathroom, where I spent the remainder of
the night rapidly deploying thousands of
chocolate skydivers into a porcelain drop-zone, whilst shaking like Muhammad Ali
on a roller coaster.
When I woke up the following morning, I
felt like the entire volume of the Ganges had passed through my emaciated torso.
I needed three things: hydration, Imodium and a butt-plug, so I dragged myself
to the car and drove to Rozelle, where I knew I could get at least two of these
items.
As I entered Rozelle, the sudden urge
to evacuate my bowels overcame me once again. I parked in the first vacant space
I saw and swiftly exited my vehicle. Somehow, I remembered that a ticket is
required to claim the generous 30-minute free parking that you bestow upon your
beloved citizens. I flagged down a passing hipster on a fixed-gear bicycle and
asked if he'd collect the ticket for me. I don't normally interact with
hipsters, but this was a crisis. Thankfully he stopped riding, put his satchel
of organic groceries down, and placed a ticket on my dashboard.
As you can see, the time matches that of
the penalty notice. Don't you think it's amazing that I had the presence of mind
to remember a ticket in the midst of such a frenzied gastrointestinal emergency?
Me too. However, I must
say there are a couple of things I don't understand about this particular
'no-parking' space. Firstly, why is a ticket machine located directly next to
it? And secondly, why is it identical to all the others in the area? It's very
confusing.
When I arrived back at the car, the
parking inspector informed me that the spot is allocated to Australia Post
between certain hours. He also said that "Nobody sees the sign" and "It happens
all the time." Now, I'm not a smart man by any means, but I think I may have a
solution to avoid this scenario reoccurring. How about painting red or yellow lines
across the space, or perhaps the words "AUSTRALIA POST, SO DON'T FUCKING PARK
HERE!" in big, bold letters? Oh, and relocating the ticket machine next to ANY
other space but the prohibited one would also be favourable.
One of my friends told me there's no way
you'll do any of those things, because you're a bunch of greedy, revenue-raising wankers. I told him to shut up, as I
know there's no way the upstanding Leichhardt Councillors would behave in that
manner. By the way, he's no longer my friend. Anyway, thank you so much for your
time. Please find it in your benevolent hearts to forgive my minor indiscretion.
I promise never to eat beef vindaloo again.
The kindest of regards,
Rich Wisken.
P.S. I hope you like the envelope I sent this letter in. I
really, really love the municipality of Leichhardt!
*UPDATE*
It didn't work...
Recently, Leichhardt Council issued
me a penalty notice for disobeying a
no-stopping sign. I love the municipality of Leichhardt and would never break
their rules intentionally. Unfortunately, I was forced to park in a forbidden
space, due to a medical emergency. I hope this letter clears up the
misunderstanding.
Dear
Mayor Byrne, Leichhardt Municipal Council, and the State Debt Recovery
Office,
On 30th July 2013, between 11:48am and
11:50am (presumably 11:49am), I was issued with a $236 penalty notice for
disobeying a no-stopping sign in the delightful inner-west hamlet of Rozelle. As
embarrassing as it is, I'm writing to see if I may be excused from paying the
fine, on the grounds that I was suffering from violently explosive diarrhoea at
the time.
The evening before the fine was issued, I
ordered a beef vindaloo from a local Indian restaurant - a mistake I vehemently
regret. Later that night my stomach started ferociously churning, which sounded
like Chewbacca being sodomised by a jackhammer. As you can imagine, this was not
a pleasant sensation.
Then came the sweating.
Like Patrick Ewing in the
fourth quarter, a saline waterfall of perspiration cascaded from every pore on my
dehydrated body. This was
followed by a sudden wave of staggering nausea. In fact, it was the exact same
feeling I experienced when someone showed me the 2 Girls 1 Cup video. Have you seen it? If not, I wouldn't
Google it unless you're a hardcore scat fetishist. It's really gross.
Before I could make it to the toilet, I
projectile vomited a fiery torrent of curried magma across my bedroom. The spicy
tsunami destroyed everything in its path, including my Wests Tigers jersey,
which I often wear to display how proud I am to live in this superb
municipality. Eventually I reached the bathroom, where I spent the remainder of
the night rapidly deploying thousands of
chocolate skydivers into a porcelain drop-zone, whilst shaking like Muhammad Ali
on a roller coaster.
When I woke up the following morning, I
felt like the entire volume of the Ganges had passed through my emaciated torso.
I needed three things: hydration, Imodium and a butt-plug, so I dragged myself
to the car and drove to Rozelle, where I knew I could get at least two of these
items.
As I entered Rozelle, the sudden urge
to evacuate my bowels overcame me once again. I parked in the first vacant space
I saw and swiftly exited my vehicle. Somehow, I remembered that a ticket is
required to claim the generous 30-minute free parking that you bestow upon your
beloved citizens. I flagged down a passing hipster on a fixed-gear bicycle and
asked if he'd collect the ticket for me. I don't normally interact with
hipsters, but this was a crisis. Thankfully he stopped riding, put his satchel
of organic groceries down, and placed a ticket on my dashboard.
As you can see, the time matches that of
the penalty notice. Don't you think it's amazing that I had the presence of mind
to remember a ticket in the midst of such a frenzied gastrointestinal emergency?
Me too. However, I must
say there are a couple of things I don't understand about this particular
'no-parking' space. Firstly, why is a ticket machine located directly next to
it? And secondly, why is it identical to all the others in the area? It's very
confusing.
When I arrived back at the car, the
parking inspector informed me that the spot is allocated to Australia Post
between certain hours. He also said that "Nobody sees the sign" and "It happens
all the time." Now, I'm not a smart man by any means, but I think I may have a
solution to avoid this scenario reoccurring. How about painting red or yellow lines
across the space, or perhaps the words "AUSTRALIA POST, SO DON'T FUCKING PARK
HERE!" in big, bold letters? Oh, and relocating the ticket machine next to ANY
other space but the prohibited one would also be favourable.
One of my friends told me there's no way
you'll do any of those things, because you're a bunch of greedy, revenue-raising wankers. I told him to shut up, as I
know there's no way the upstanding Leichhardt Councillors would behave in that
manner. By the way, he's no longer my friend. Anyway, thank you so much for your
time. Please find it in your benevolent hearts to forgive my minor indiscretion.
I promise never to eat beef vindaloo again.
The kindest of regards,
Rich Wisken.
P.S. I hope you like the envelope I sent this letter in. I
really, really love the municipality of Leichhardt!
*UPDATE*
It didn't work...
