Recently, Leichhardt Council issued me a penalty notice for disobeying a no-stopping sign. I love the municipality of Leichhardt and would never break their rules intentionally. Unfortunately, I was forced to park in a forbidden space, due to a medical emergency. I hope this letter clears up the misunderstanding.
Dear Mayor Byrne, Leichhardt Municipal Council, and the State Debt Recovery Office,
On 30th July 2013, between 11:48am and 11:50am (presumably 11:49am), I was issued with a $236 penalty notice for disobeying a no-stopping sign in the delightful inner-west hamlet of Rozelle. As embarrassing as it is, I'm writing to see if I may be excused from paying the fine, on the grounds that I was suffering from violently explosive diarrhoea at the time.
The evening before the fine was issued, I ordered a beef vindaloo from a local Indian restaurant - a mistake I vehemently regret. Later that night my stomach started ferociously churning, which sounded like Chewbacca being sodomised by a jackhammer. As you can imagine, this was not a pleasant sensation.
Then came the sweating. Like Patrick Ewing in the fourth quarter, a saline waterfall of perspiration cascaded from every pore on my dehydrated body. This was followed by a sudden wave of staggering nausea. In fact, it was the exact same feeling I experienced when someone showed me the 2 Girls 1 Cup video. Have you seen it? If not, I wouldn't Google it unless you're a hardcore scat fetishist. It's really gross.
Before I could make it to the toilet, I projectile vomited a fiery torrent of curried magma across my bedroom. The spicy tsunami destroyed everything in its path, including my Wests Tigers jersey, which I often wear to display how proud I am to live in this superb municipality. Eventually I reached the bathroom, where I spent the remainder of the night rapidly deploying thousands of chocolate skydivers into a porcelain drop-zone, whilst shaking like Muhammad Ali on a roller coaster.
When I woke up the following morning, I felt like the entire volume of the Ganges had passed through my emaciated torso. I needed three things: hydration, Imodium and a butt-plug, so I dragged myself to the car and drove to Rozelle, where I knew I could get at least two of these items.
As I entered Rozelle, the sudden urge to evacuate my bowels overcame me once again. I parked in the first vacant space I saw and swiftly exited my vehicle. Somehow, I remembered that a ticket is required to claim the generous 30-minute free parking that you bestow upon your beloved citizens. I flagged down a passing hipster on a fixed-gear bicycle and asked if he'd collect the ticket for me. I don't normally interact with hipsters, but this was a crisis. Thankfully he stopped riding, put his satchel of organic groceries down, and placed a ticket on my dashboard.
As you can see, the time matches that of the penalty notice. Don't you think it's amazing that I had the presence of mind to remember a ticket in the midst of such a frenzied gastrointestinal emergency? Me too. However, I must say there are a couple of things I don't understand about this particular 'no-parking' space. Firstly, why is a ticket machine located directly next to it? And secondly, why is it identical to all the others in the area? It's very confusing.
When I arrived back at the car, the parking inspector informed me that the spot is allocated to Australia Post between certain hours. He also said that "Nobody sees the sign" and "It happens all the time." Now, I'm not a smart man by any means, but I think I may have a solution to avoid this scenario reoccurring. How about painting red or yellow lines across the space, or perhaps the words "AUSTRALIA POST, SO DON'T FUCKING PARK HERE!" in big, bold letters? Oh, and relocating the ticket machine next to ANY other space but the prohibited one would also be favourable.
One of my friends told me there's no way you'll do any of those things, because you're a bunch of greedy, revenue-raising wankers. I told him to shut up, as I know there's no way the upstanding Leichhardt Councillors would behave in that manner. By the way, he's no longer my friend. Anyway, thank you so much for your time. Please find it in your benevolent hearts to forgive my minor indiscretion. I promise never to eat beef vindaloo again.
The kindest of regards,
Rich Wisken.
P.S. I hope you like the envelope I sent this letter in. I really, really love the municipality of Leichhardt!
*UPDATE*
It didn't work...
