Black hole
The fecking shysters at the Criminal Records Bureau/Metropolitan Police have now had my application for five months. It’s supposed to take four weeks. I don’t know what they’re doing with it – folding it up and sticking it under the legs of wonky desks? Using it to make whizzy paper aeroplanes in those moments of boredom where there just aren’t enough applications to process? Using the back as a handy note pad to work out their tax returns?
The CRB being, ironically, in Liverpool, it’s entirely feasible that it has been stolen in a break in, and is being torn up and used as handy wraps by burberry-fixated scouse coke dealers.
Or perhaps they have accidentally shredded it, and have spent the last five months trying to stick it back together with sellotape.
My visa runs out in two weeks. There is no sign of an extension on the horizon. I’m concerned that unless I get my CRB check very, very soon, I am in danger of being ejected from the country, never to return. I’m not ready for that. I like it here. And also it’s a bit chilly at home right now.
I know that the Met are busy protecting London from Evil Terrorists, but surely there are enough personnel left to process my application a little more quickly? They can’t all be running amok on the underground, shooting random civilians.
I am getting a bit cross.