OVER the entrance to Dante’s hell were inscribed the words: “All hope abandon ye who enter here.” I feel like that every time I go into the Post Office – that’s if I can find a Post Office.

It’s nothing to queue for three-quarters of an hour. People get so impatient that fights break out. I have been tempted to join in myself.

Why is it so bad? Post Offices always used to be efficient, friendly places and you could be in and out in a couple of minutes – like popping into the pub for a swift half. Mind you, it gets harder to find a pub these days, what with all the closures. But that’s a story for another time. Anyway, I’ve used all the stamps I bought before the outrageous price increases, so I’m going to have to grit my teeth and go to the Post Office for some more.

What is it now – 50p (ten bob) for a second class stamp and 60p (twelve shillings) for a first class. And they say the Royal Mail is a service that is “the envy of the world” – the same lie they tell about the NHS.

Well, the Royal Mail was indeed the envy of the world in Queen Victoria’s day, and it was still pretty good when I was a boy. I remember, before I went to university, I worked for a year in the statistics department of the old Ministry of Labour on The Headrow in Leeds. The bloke on the next desk to me would ask our supervisor every morning if he was required to work overtime. Then he would write a postcard to let his mother know what time he’d be home. And she would invariably get the card at lunchtime by the second post.

Here in the City of London – the throbbing heart of the world’s mega-transactions, where you would think communication is everything – we’re lucky if the first post arrives before teatime. And there is no second.

In fact, stuff gets lost all the time. I might have won on the premium bonds, but then how would I know, since the postal deliveries are so hit and miss?

Only this week I have a minor crisis on my hands. Some friends in Portugal kindly let us borrow their house for a holiday each year.

Yesterday they phoned up and asked if the house keys had arrived.

No, they damn well had not. “Well,” she said “I posted them last week.”

So, just try asking the Royal Mail what’s become of them. They never answer the phone. Perhaps they have an inefficiency agreement with the telephone companies? So you look at the Royal Mail website. Here it tells you how to inquire about a missing letter or package. You need time on your hands to read how to do this – and a higher degree in gobbledegook.

Anyhow – this was a Monday afternoon – I eventually “accessed” (I believe they say) the online form on which you register the details of your complaint.

After some considerable travail, I accomplished this hugely intellectual challenge and clicked on the box marked “submit”.

Then guess what? There came up on the screen an announcement saying that the staff would not be in the office until Monday.

I pinched myself several times.

This was Monday. In fact, as I said, it was Monday afternoon – pretty late on. So I thought to myself: “If they don’t know what day of the week it is, what chance they will be capable of delivering my letters?”