I received a letter from my ex-employers the other day.
The letter contained a form that I had to fill in to prove that I am alive.
Why are they writing to me if they think I’m dead? Fucking idiots.
Anyhow, I was about to sign it when I noticed that I had to have the signature witness by a Garda. Now the signature is no problem. I am getting damned good at forging my own signature and have reached the stage where it is almost indistinguishable from the original. Getting a Garda to witness it could pose a problem though, as Sheriff can be an awkward bugger to find when you need him.
I had to go down to the village this morning, so just on the off-chance, I called into the Garda station. As luck would have it, there was Sheriff having a quiet smoke and a read of the paper.
I showed him the form and asked him to put his X at the bottom of it. He refused. I asked why. He said that he never put his signature to anything unless he was ‘in possession of all the relevant data’. Sheriff can be a right bollix sometimes. I asked him what the fuck he was on about and he replied that he couldn’t sign it as he didn’t have conclusive proof that I was alive. I told him that that was fine by me, because if I were dead, he wouldn’t be getting any of the pints I owed him.
He signed the form.
On the way to post off the form, a car with German registration plates pulled up beside me. The driver wanted to know the way back to the main road as he wanted to get to Dublin. I sent him up the Bog Road to the mountain tops.
My first tourist of the season.
Spring is definitely in the air.