There was a time when everybody had his or her
bomb story ; today the same kind of conversational priority is accorded to our experiences with bureaucrats. But whereas bomb-stories usually had a happy ending for the narrator, it is too often the other way round with their contemporary counterparts. Reason, cogency and a remorseless logic are the hall-marks of what we said to officialdom ; but officialdom's tardy, pompous and as likely as not irrelevant answer generally amounts to a lemon. Every now and then, however, someone draws lucky, though for no discoverable reason, and wins a prize in the vast lottery which (it seems to me) you automatically create when you make too many plans, translate them into far too many regulations and administer them with staffs which are in- adequate in-quality and—large though they are—probably in quantity too. One of these freaks of fortune befell a neighbour of mine who is a small haulage contractor. He applied for his normal six monthly allowance of supplementary petrol, which was 290 gallons, and in due course received 32o. Being a scrupulous man, he wrote back to the Regional. Petroleum Office, pointing out that they had been over-generous and offering to return 3o gallons. This letter crossed a further, unexplained allocation of 32o gallons and was answered a week later by the authorities. They regretted very much that a mistake had been made in dealing with his application ; they would try to ensure that it did not occur again ; and they enclosed Coupons for 320 gallons.
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