They were dancing in the streets of Greendale today celebrating the news that local legend, Postman Pat had been given a payrise after months of negotiations with his employer, the Royal Mail.
The hard working postie had just finished his round at about 5pm when he finally made it back to the sorting office.
He put down the sack of mail that he didn't feel like delivering today and slipped a couple of young Charlie Pringles birthday cards into his back pocket.
Suddenly, his boss Mrs Goggins the head postmistress appeared and called over, 'Evening Pat, can you come into my office for a moment?'
'Fuck', Pat thought, 'The old slag has rumbled me over those missing items of registered post for Reverend Timms that I've been helping myself to.'
Luckily for Pat he wasn't about to lose his job. The news was far more positive.
'Congratulations Pat' Said Mrs Goggins. 'I'd like to award you a pay rise of 6.9% over three years.'
'You'll also get a £400 bonus and you'll get a further £1000 after some planned changes are implemented.'
'I've also cut your working hours from 40 to 39 a week. So that'll be an extra hour in the pub then for you Pat,' she laughed.
'All I ask of you in return is that you try to turn around a first class item in less than five days from when it's first posted. And stop that bloody cat of yours from pissing on Farmer Fogg's Large Cocks Monthly magazine subscription.'
Pat was so delighted with the news that he jumped up out of his seat then gave out a deafening scream.
'There goes my fucking back,' he groaned. 'Six months off sick on full pay?' He added as he made eye contact with Mrs Goggins.
'Of course Pat,' chuckled Mrs Goggins. 'I'll get one of those cheap temporary workers who can't speak or read any English to cover your round while you're off.'