Postman Flat


Someone in my block of flats suffers from an embarrassing condition.

In the lobby of the building, there’s a set of mail boxes, one for every flat. Below them is a windowsill. This morning I found a letter on the windowsill. I checked and it had been addressed properly, typed in fact. It was for number 33. Why hadn’t it been posted in mailbox number 33?

Obviously, it had ended up in someone else’s mailbox by mistake but Instead of just posting it in box 33, they’d only managed to place it on the windowsill underneath.

I checked the post mark and the letter had been posted in Paris. I felt sorry for it, trains planes and automobiles had brought it more than two hundred miles and through the door of the block of flats. It just couldn’t make it that last four feet.

Whoever ended up with it has a condition that prevents them from, well, finishing the job. Their arm had become erect, they went to put it in but couldn’t stay stiff. They just couldn’t keep it up, they went limp before this French letter could be delivered. 

It’s all caused by, ‘Post Traumatic Stress’. The medical name for this condition is ‘Ascension Deficit Disorder’ but it’s more commonly known as ‘Mail Impotence’. 

Craic on!

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