Billothewisp patiently waits for his Royal Mail delivery each morning. He eagerly opens all the delightful brochures describing haemorrhoid treatments, laxatives and air fresheners.
But recently my friendly postie has had some reservations about making his deliveries. To be fair these are the wilder parts of rural Dorset.
There are rumours of wicked goings on. Wicker men and blood sacrifices. Strange and bizarre rituals.
Virgin posties are particularly nervous. But at least they have their bikes.
It gives them a sporting chance.
But now, after the latest deal between the management and union at the post office, our noble postie brethren are likely to be weighed down with even more junk mail. Already we get over 4 billion (that is 4000,000,000) pieces of junk mail every year. It looks like that soon we will be getting even more. See here
That is until the sacks become too heavy and our posties too exhausted.
Then anything could happen.
Darwinian selection will kick in. The quick and fit postie will deliver for another day.
The slow will be toast (or roast). At least round here.
But barbecued postie aside, Billothewisp has a use for all the junk mail. It gets used as a fire-lighter for the wood burner.
So after you have been enthralled by the wonderful images and magical cures for vaginal itching, constipation and piles, you too can ensure the junk mail finally serves a useful purpose.
But don't forget the poor weighed down postie. Especially those who have to risk the dark and dangerous byways in the Neanderthal county of Dorset.