Needing some buildings to fill out my Victorian board, I turned to me 'ol mucker Jimbibbly who kindly sent me one of his fab creations from Oshiro Model Terrain. Being the sensible chap he is, he decided to address my packages to 'Thundercheeks' and 'His grace, The Chicken of Thunder' It's not every day you find a failed delivery notice from Royal Mail on your doormat addressed to 'Thundercheeks'.
So, toady was the day I had to visit the sorting office, armed with the delivery note to collect my goodies. I did consider sending my daughter in to collect them but she has been an angel this week so it wouldn't have been fair.
Anyway, this is how the conversation went with staff at the sorting office:
Me: "Morning, I'm collecting a couple of packages that have to be signed for." Hands delivery note over the counter.
Postie: "Got some ID mate?"
Me: "I have but the name on the delivery note isn't my real name." This has now probably got the attention of people queuing behind me.
Postie, frowning and looking at the delivery note: "Who's it addressed to then?"
Me: "Me, but it's my nom de plume from a forum I visit."
Postie (quite loudly): "Thundercheeks?" I'm sure I hear a snigger behind me.
Me (now looking for an exit strategy): "Sort of, my actual handle is Thunderchicken but it has been mutated to Thundercheeks." As soon as I say it I realise the absurdity of what I just said.
Postie: "So do you have any ID with your forum name on it?"
Me (pathetically): "Erm......... no but I can show you the forum if you want, it's saved to favourites on my phone." Gets phone out realising that my avatar is Windsor Davies which could confuse things further.
Postie: "No, it's alright mate. I'll have to check this." I should add, he maintained a straight face throughout this short verbal transaction.
Postie disappears and comes back with a colleague, who I presume is his supervisor. The supervisor takes one look at the delivery note, looks at me holding my phone up while sporting a look of mortified desperation on my chops, looks at the note again, bursts out laughing and says, "Thundercheeks eh?" Continues to chortle heartily for what seems like an eternity before finally saying, "Sign here."
He then passes the packages over to me and feeling I need to explain it's not the sort of forum he, and everyone else in the sorting office think it is, I feebly say, "It's wargaming stuff." I then exit the establishment swiftly, ensuring not to make eye contact with anyone.
Thanks James. Revenge will be swift, clinical and rather funny. My time will come.
23 October 2011, 08:15:04 PM