Monday, May 27, 2024
In My 20sThings In My Head

Passport Problems

My passport woes were banished yesterday evening. Having not been able to find the bastard thing for just over a month, I finally used my detection skills to track the tricksy bugger down.

Considering how many passports I find at work hidden in all sorts of ‘hi-tech’ concealments (greetings cards, flip-flops) I was a little disappointed that the passport was happily ‘hiding’ in the very box that I keep my important bits in. The very same box that I had already searched three times over the last month. And when I say box, I mean box-file. A4-sized and about two inches deep. Not really much concealment space inside.

But for a month, the passport somehow managed to use its stealth and cunning to elude detection. Cheeky shit. The passport had even managed to infiltrate my mind and implant images and false memories, in order to avoid capture. I vividly remember taking it out of a jacket pocket at work a couple of months ago. I also remember sending it off to the DVLA when I was last caught for speeding, about 5 months ago. I also have memories of it being on my computer table and on top of my CD rack.

But, it transpires, the passport has been ‘concealed’ within the same envelope that I put it in to take it to the solicitors back in June, along with an Argos bill and two pay slips. Which would suggest that it has been in that very same envelope ever since.

Implying fairly strongly that it couldn’t have taken part in any of the other activities I’d envisaged seeing it take part in over the last few months.

Unless the passport, in its desperation to remain hidden, employed a dummy passport (some kind of passport doppelganger) and paid it to undertake a variety of passport-related activities over the last few months, thus throwing me off the scent of the real passport.

Which leaves me with the only possible explanations. That the passport is capable of implanting images in my mind, or that it is capable of deviance and deception. Either way, it’s a cheeky little shitbag, and if it wasn’t so inanimate, I’d be having words with it.

Strong words. 

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