"Royal shitty Mail," said Dave Watt, an accountant from Leeds. "You couldn't even rely on them to take their pants off before shitting, let alone take a tossing week off and save me the time and effort of farting around with cards. There's me, lining up my handy little 'well I wrote it and put it in the post, Royal bloody mail eh?' excuse and now this. Well I for one will be taking a ripe turd in every postbox I pass throughout the season of goodwill. Thanks Royal Mail, you putrid, disease ridden arse-maggots."

Tim Haneffort, a member of the congregation from the Roman Catholic Church of Infinite, Miserable Arrogance told Stinky Ponky "It distresses me that people should focus on such base things at such a holy time. People should not think only of the personal burden of these ultimately pointless pieces of card; they should think of the children. I have 17 nephews and 24 nieces and Royal Mail have fucked me to holy fucketry because I would have saved a small bastard fortune on presents for them and no mistake. As my old grandma used to say; may Lucifer's naughtiest demons chase their burning carcasses across the firey hills of hell before knobbing them roughly up the poop-shoot for all eternity. Amen."

Jane Mary, a postal worker from Norwich said "WHAT?! Oh fuck! I've booked the week in Disneyland! Now I have to go to work AND write my crappy cards. Fuck a duck."