UNTITLED

Spain calling. Everyone's favourite escapee here. I've just written to the Disgraced Dr Liam Fox asking him how his morning has been. Mine was spent trying to find the right department dealing with my nationality change. The first place said the equivalent of no, that they had moved office and I could find the new one in the Plaza Cervantes. There a very nice policeman addressed me as 'miss' and feeling a bit Dick Emeryish I was tempted to reply 'Madam', but that didn't feel right so continued with my peregrinations. I found myself in an office where the woman told me that I needed to go to the room next door. In the room next door another woman told me the same, to go to the room next door. I looked her in the eye and asked her how long she and her colleague intended to keep this up and she sighed, stopped filing her nails and stubbed out the cigarette hanging from her mouth and escorted me to the room next door. In the room next door the original pen pusher told me no, that I had to go to the police station. I continued like a perambulating corn dolly and found myself at the back of the police station standing under a sign emblazoned FOREIGNERS ( that's me!). I asked the bureaucrat if I needed to take a number and she sneered and said 'what for' and I told her 'to speak with your worship'. She blushed and after some time she called the good cop over who couldn't have been nicer when she told me I will have to get back to the embassy and get a certificate of concordance to show that I am who I say I am and not someone else, you know, not some impostor . Onward and upward! Chin chin fucking Brexiteers! It's great fun if you don't weaken!