What about a short but sweet story from the ever-fab Lizzie? I hummed and haa-ed for ages about which one of her Christmas-y ones to post, but I went for this one. A dash of Doyle, a glimpse of Murphy, a solid helping of Bodie, and a parcel that needs to be sent... *g* And as always, it's all about the lads together really.
Join the Queue by Lizzie
Bodie sighed. Christmas at the ruddy Post Office. A total bloody nightmare. The queue was out the door and half-way down the street, and the poor sods outside were out there in rain that could only be described as stair-rods. But at least it was just one queue. The days where you took your pick from six - if you were lucky enough to find six clerks serving, generally three were off on their coffee break or having a fag in the loo--only to find you'd joined the one where the berk being served had three registered packages and his vehicle license to renew, without the relevant documents, were long gone. Instead, everyone now formed one neat line. Very orderly. Very British. If things were slow, all anyone did was mutter under their breath. Or sigh loudly. Which Bodie did - again.
The old chap in front of him turned around.

Bodie sighed. Christmas at the ruddy Post Office. A total bloody nightmare. The queue was out the door and half-way down the street, and the poor sods outside were out there in rain that could only be described as stair-rods. But at least it was just one queue. The days where you took your pick from six - if you were lucky enough to find six clerks serving, generally three were off on their coffee break or having a fag in the loo--only to find you'd joined the one where the berk being served had three registered packages and his vehicle license to renew, without the relevant documents, were long gone. Instead, everyone now formed one neat line. Very orderly. Very British. If things were slow, all anyone did was mutter under their breath. Or sigh loudly. Which Bodie did - again.
The old chap in front of him turned around.