You know how I said I was having problems with the authorities, well I have written them a letter and just want to run it by you to get your opinion. Please be honest.
Your Worship, Lordship, god Of Small Things and Sir,
Once upon a time in the "no probs parking" area of Cronulla there lived a little old lady. She'd lived in the "Shoire" all of her unblemished life.
Her unit was across the road from the Plaza, resulting in the fact that since like other residents she never crossed the bridge (Tom Ugly's), her car spent most of its happy little life curled up in her registered parking space in the bowels of her unit block.
One day however the little old lady (let's call her Jan) was called upon to help an 82 year old friend with her pussy, which had been sick with fleas, furballs and occasional incontinence. So Jan drove to her friend's house , picked up her friend and her pussy and took them both to the vet's. The friend survived but unfortunately Oedipuss had to go to the big cattery in the sky.
Having taken care of her friend and her fragile feline, Jan drove her car to the council car park because
a) she needed to buy a few things and
b) her throat was very sore, her temperature was very high, she had the shakes from being so cold and she couldn't stop coughing. She thought the chemist might have a miracle drug she could take to circumvent her death. Armed with eye of newt and tongue of toad and aspirin in case extreme measures were needed, Jan dragged herself home where she went to sleep for six days and six nights.
With her temperature rising and falling and her constant descent into delusional, delirious hallucinatory episodes, Jan was beginning to lose the will to live.
However this too passed and on the eighth day she put one foot tentatively on the ground and declared "It's a miracle". Having run out of essentials like bread, milk and Toblerone Jan decided to drive to the shops because she still felt too weak to walk.
Down in the bowels of her unit complex she found her registered car space empty. 'Shit a brick' she thought ' someone has stolen my car'. Then through the haze of memory came the sudden realisation that she had left it in the council car park seven days ago.
Crawling across to said carpark Jan was praying to the Parking God"Please lord, I didn't mean to overstay my welcome but I have been at death's door".
In an illustration of the saying "No good deed goes unpunished" there on her windscreen were four brown envelopes.
Jan cried as she sipped her caffeine fix, wondering how she could deal with the fines. She lived on the pension. There was no way she could produce $400 out of thin air. She considered selling one of her nine grand children on eBay but she was technologically challenged. She thought she could sell her mother's wedding ring, but that was awkward because her mother was still wearing it.
Still in the death throes of the flu Jan thought she could pay one of the fines and leave the other three in her will to her daughters. One daughter would take the case all the way to the International, nay the Intergallactic Court of Appeal on principle. One daughter would petition her local member with a persuasive argument against the Victimisation of Senior Citizens in Council Car Parks and the other daughter would take the fine home store it with all the detritus that comes with having five children or use it in a craft lesson to make 1000 paper cranes. In any case the fines were not going to be high on anybody's list except Jan's.
Therefore your lordship, I am throwing myself on the mercy of the court. I am prepared, nay excited to pay one of the fines if the other three could be
a) overlooked, or
b) paid off over a period of time,say 100 years.
In view of the above I trust you will be sympathetic to my cause.
I remain etc etc etc
Well there it is Susan; what do you reckon? An iceblock's chance in hell.
I'll let you know what happens