Business Traveller

Last week, I finally got tired of wating for the PS3. Sony also pissed me off with heavy-handed legal action against the company that was importing them here (resulting in the company closing up shop). It’s things like this that make me miss America. The only ones that lose-out through protected markets like the ones here in Europe are the customers.

Anyway, my XBox rocks. I love the wireless controllers, and the graphics are great. I also bought 2 games:-

- Ghost Recon

- N3 (Ninety Nine Nights)

Ghost Recon is a cool enough game, but you need to invest some serious time in learning the (complex) controls to enjoy it. I’m slightly more casual in my approach to gaming (If I have half an hour with nothing better to do, I’ll give it a bit of a go), so I guess that I won’t be playing too much Ghost Recon.

N3 has awesome graphics, a fit heroin, and a jump in and play style of gaming that I quite like. I’m not entirely sure if the game will have enough substance to keep me interested though…

I was so happy when I finally got my certificate of British citizenship that I didn’t really check it too carefully…

When I sent in my application for my British passport, I noticed something strange. Next to my name and surname (which were both spelled correctly), was a wrong spelling of my surname in stars, like this:-

Right Name *Wrong*

I figured that this might just be some computer code that they had assigned for easy lookup, so I had my passport application checked by the post office checking service, paid my money, and sat waiting for my shiny new passport to arrive. For the first time ever, trips to our offices in Germany and Spain would not involve getting to the consulate at 4am, desperately hoping that you are in the first 100 people (because they only see the first 100 people), and then waiting in the cold, dark, wet, on the side of the road – for the consulate to finally open it’s doors at 9. No more standing in the ‘Bloody Foreigners’ queues when I land anywhere in Europe. No, from here on in, I’d be flashing my passport breezily at somebody as I strolled through – with no interrogation at all. This was something that I had worked 6 years for, and it was going to be sweet!

2 Weeks later, somebody from the passport office gave me a call. Apparently the name in the stars is the name that they use. So, the paperwork I had filled in was in the wrong name, but she could, very helpfully, issue me the passport in a name that wasn’t mine – or I could sort it out with the citizenship gang. I asked to sort it out with the citizenship gang, so they sent me back my certificate of citizenship, and I contacted the crowd who deal with this sort of thing. A phone call established that I’d have to send in my certificate with a covering note, explaining what the problem is. I did this, and waited…

After 3 weeks, I phoned to find out if they had received my letter, and after getting 10 people that all told me that they are not in the business of confirming receipt, I finally managed to get somebody to confirm that they had it, and that they change ‘could take about 4 months’.

There’s no way to rush it.

No way to pay some money to be treated as a priority.

I’m off to the German consulate again on Monday morning, at 4am. I’m going to sit in the cold, dark wet on the side of the road, hoping that I’m in the first 100 people. When the doors finally open, I’ll hopefully get let in, where I can beg some frauline to let me into her country, so that I can ensure that our company in her country stays profitable, and keeps in business, paying the taxes that keep her in that chair – with a rod up her ass, and that disapproving little mouth that is just dying to find some way to keep me out. Bitch.