Rats with wings

At the company where I work there is a weekly ritual. It is repeated every Friday and so it is aptly called Friday Treats. It's the day of the week on which the company spends a bit of extra money on its employees and treats them to a little something. This, maybe more than anything else makes Friday the most hotly awaited day of the week.
The ritual is performed by two girls from the administration department who go to every floor and deposit on each one three trays with snacks of some sort. The nature of the snacks varies from week to week; there have been things like bacon and sausage rolls (the British love them but I stay away), cookies, various kinds of pastries and cakes, cheese sticks and crackers and all sorts of other unhealthy stuff. The agonising bit (for some people at least) is that the treats are not served at the same time every week. So, come Friday, you start seeing people behave like kids waiting for Christmas Day - they know it will come but when? By 10 o'clock you'll normally start hearing people speculate what it'll be today - maybe sausage rolls. At 11 they still hope it'll be sausage rolls. By 12 they tend to get a bit edgy and also sadly rule out that it'll be sausage rolls (since it's too late for breakfast). By around 1 or 2 there rumours start circulating that it might be this or that because somebody says he's talked to one of the girls. Finally, if it takes until 3 then the anticipation reaches its climax.
So, when the two girls finally maneuver the trays throught the door the excitement spread like a shock wave through the office. You can pratically feel it. Now it is important to note that the people on my floor - all of them developers like myself - are normally extremely reserved, shy even, and most of all quiet. But this weekly event seems to bring out the predator in them. And that's saying a lot considering that usually they hardly even look anybody in the face. To say that people home in on the trays like a pack of hungry wolves, a flock of vultures or a swarm of flies would not adequately capture the situation. They don't even wait until the trays have been put down! By the time the girls have reached the table where they leave the trays they're already in the middle of a throng. Like hungry seagulls people descend on the trays and those who carry them. Hands dart in and out, snapping and grabbing. The girls have to fight their way out of the mass of bodies pushing and shoving to get at the food. Some keen specimens even break into a run to get there before others. Sometimes I can't help but quietly marvel at the fact that they make it out alive. Ever seen the seagulls in Hitchcock's The Birds or Pixar's Finding Nemo? It's like that. "Mine, mine, mine!"
Then, after only a few minutes, everything is over. Everywhere people sit quietly at their desks again munching contently. All tension has dissipated. People breathe freely again. The red haze has lifted. Things have returned to normal. There's nothing left.
You can almost see the predators happily belching up the bones of their unfortunate prey. Within a few minutes three trays have been cleared of anything remotely edible.
Then the long wait begins anew. The tension mounts again. Until next Friday...

TV madness

Let's start with an easy one. No time for introductions for now. Straight to the action. Question: What is wrong with the British TV Licencing^tm company??
A brief background for those not familiar with this. In the UK, if you own TV receiving equipment such as a video recorder or a TV set, you must buy a TV licence that authorises you to use this equipment. Under normal circumstances (by just plugging the antenna into the wall socket) this enables you to receive the amazing number of *drumroll please* 5 channels.
The licence costs £126.50 for colour signal and (check this out!) around £42 for black and white. Black and white?! In the age of digital TV - at the dawn of high definition TV even?! Well, fair enough, you might say. If they provide a service then you have to pay to use it. Agreed. This is not what I have certain issues with.
I struggle to be understanding towards their approach to collecting these fees. If you have a licence you're fine and don't see or hear anything from them. The interesting bit starts if you do not have a licence. That is when the letters start arriving. They come extremely regularly (not quite every month - about every two months maybe). They're all the same, addressed to the annonymous "occupier", with a barcode at the top, written in no-frills Courier style font, delivered probably by the Terminator ("Are you the occupier?" - "Yes." - *Bang, bang*). Below is a sample - please read in the voice of James Earl Jones:

Official Warning

Our Enforcement Division (CIA? GeStaPo? Thinkpol?)has identified that there is no record of a TV licence at your address, and that you may therefore be watching or recording television services without a valid licence. If this is the case, you are breaking the law.
Enforcement Officers have been authorised by us to visit your address in [...] to interview you under caution in compliance with the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984 (the year! That can't be a coincidence! An interesting piece of information: they can visit but if I'm not mistaken they cannot force entry. A bit like Dracula - you must let them in. And as with vampires they come to suck you dry. So, keep the door closed and read on.).
If we find that you watch or record television without a licence, your statement will be the first step towards procecution (here sounds almost like execution...). Should you be convicted, your name will be added to our National Enforcement Database (aka Big Brother) and the magistrate can impose a fine of up to £1000.
Officers from our Enforcement Division catch 80,277 people every year (the mind boggles: do they catch the same number every year??).
To avoid a potential court appearance, you are strongly advised to call 0870 241 5698 now. The quickest way to pay is [...]

What follows are only payment options and where to send them to. But, you may ask, what if I don't have a TV? Not an option. Wrong answer. It's a bit like that Jedi mind trick: "you will get a licence". You must then write to the company and tell them. And probably also apologise and assure them that you'll get a TV (and a licence!) soon. But, just to show that even these TV licencing hard-liners, these terrorists of your living room are not without sympathy for those unfortunate souls that cannot make the most of their licence there are some special clauses. If you're over 75 you can get it for free and if you're 74 you can get a free Short Term licence. Maybe for those cases that don't expect to live to be 75. Furthermore, if you are blind - and now savour this - you qualify for a 50% discount. You can't see the damn thing but you have to pay half! That would make an expensive radio! Whoever came up with this: respect. The Godfather would make you an honorary member of the familia.
Lastly, since even terrorists are known to make mistakes sometimes, they ask that you accept their apologies. I wonder for what. Maybe for being treated like a criminal.
And if you think this is bit overblown - it's not all. They don't stop at mailing you. They also put up posters on public transport, university halls, and, who knows, maybe public toilets soon. This site has a few nice examples.
Personally I'm not sure if I should laugh at it or rather be afraid. Not because I'm evading the licence myself - no, Mister TV licencing guys sir, I don't own a TV. Would never dare. Rather because this is virtually blackmailing the public. The government actually tolerates it. I realise that there are people trying to get away without paying. Still, there must be better ways of addressing the problem! What's next? If you don't pay they have you mugged in a dark alley way?
So, what's the moral of this story? If you ever move to Britain, remember, the Enforcement Officers are watching you. Good night.