AUSTRALIAN LETTER OF THE YEAR --- Humor but true & tragic

       Please excuse the language but this is well worth reading

This is an actual letter sent to the DFAT (Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade)   Immigration Minister. The Commonwealth Government tried desperately to censure  the author, but got nowhere because every legal person who read it nearly wet themselves laughing!

        Dear Mr. Minister,

        I'm in the process of renewing my passport, and still cannot believe this.

        How is it that K-Mart has my address and telephone number, and
        knows that I bought a television set and golf clubs from them back in 1997,
        and yet the Federal Government is still asking me where I was born and on
        what date?

        For Christ sakes, do you guys do this by hand?

        My birth date you have in my Medicare information, and it is on
        all the income tax forms I've filed for the past 40 years. It is also on my
        driver's licence, on the last eight passports I've ever had, on all those stupid   
        customs declaration forms I've had to fill out before being allowed off planes  
        over the past 30 years.

        It's also on all those insufferable census forms that I've filled out every 5 years  
        since 1966 Also... would somebody please take note, once and for all, that my 
        mother's name is Audrey, my father's name is Jack, and I'd be absolutely fucking 
        astounded if that ever changed between now and when I drop dead!!!...

        SHIT! What do you people do with all this information we keep having to 
        provide??

        I apologize, Mr. Minister. But I'm really pissed off this morning. Between you and me, 
        I've had enough of all this bullshit!

        You send the application to my house, then you ask me for a fucking address!! What 
        the hell is going on with your mob? 

        Have you got a gang of mindless Neanderthal arseholes working there!

        And another thing, look at my damn picture... Do I look like Bin Laden? I can't even 
        grow a beard for God's sakes. I just want to go to New Zealand and see my new 
        granddaughter. (Yes, my son interbred with a Kiwi girl). And would someone please 
        tell me, why would you give a shit whether or not I plan on visiting a farm in the next 
        15 days? In the unlikely event I ever got the urge to do something weird to a sheep or 
        a horse, believe you me, I'd sure a  hell not want to tell anyone!
        
        Well, I have to go now, 'cause I have to go to the other end of the city, and get 
        another fucking copy of my birth certificate - and to part with another $80 for the 
        privilege of accessing MY OWN  INFORMATION! Would it be so complicated to have 
        all the services in the same spot, to assist.