A letter I recently sent to my local council concerning an issue very close to my heart. No, not my aorta...
For literally days now, I've been requesting a zebra crossing on the road outside my block of flats. I've tried bribery, flattery, even lying (alas, there was no school for the deaf blind. How would they find it?) So it's come to this: the power of the human imagination.
Imagine, if you will, that your whole body is made of breezeblocks, except for your feet, which are made from Velcro. And now imagine the road is also made from Velcro. And imagine you're carrying 18 bags of shopping. And the bags are made from cast iron. And the cars are all being driven by Jeremy Clarkson. And you’re Piers Morgan. And all this is happening inside The Sun. And you’ve got no sun-cream. And you need the loo. And you’re late for a dental appointment. Now double all that. That’s how hard the road is to cross.
And hey, if you can’t/won’t do that, maybe you could construct two retractable walls made from solid titanium. At the touch of a button (of which, I would be the sole possessor), they pop up out of the road, creating a natural (read: manmade) path for me to cross the road safely. Of course, this would cause the flaming deaths of a bunch of selfish motorists, not to mention requiring almost round-the-clock ambulance/fire/waste disposal services on hand to attend to the resultant chaos, but in war, there’s always casualties.
I urge you to do the right thing.
Turns out I sent it to The Arts Council by mistake.