Chris Maclean: a dread of the morning mail

Every morning, when I hear that desolate thump on the hallway floor, my heart sinks at the prospect of opening the morning mail. There is that horrible realisation that at any moment some hitherto unknown organisation, maybe the Whistled Tunes in Public Places Society, who can render an impossible bill based on implausible circumstances and, at a stroke, destroy my business.

A predecessor at another pub tried, unsuccessfully, to run food and beer as "separate businesses". Sadly HM Revenue & Customs felt differently and billed him £8,000 for unpaid tax. It broke him and he went bankrupt. I live in fear someone may have similar powers.

So it is with trepidation I sit down with a mug of tea, a nearby waste basket and a rather smart engraved pewter letter knife. If I am going to go down I may as well go down in style.

The mail is sorted out into three piles - to me personally by name, to the business by name and to those generically headed something like "to the head purchaser of sanitary products".

(My friend Ron 'Close 'Em Down' Brown used to have two piles; friendly mail and hate mail.)

I will open the personal mail directed at me and deal with it, bin it or put it in the book-keeper's box.

The business mail will get similar, if a little less sympathetic, treatment.

All the vaguely headed stuff goes straight in the bin. I feel it unlikely that a summons headed "the chief purchaser" would have much success. Surely if they are going to get any money out of me they must have my name?

So it is with a little shock that I realised I hadn't paid my waste collection bill. But on examination I discover I've been getting letters to the "bought ledger manager". Who is that? How many licensed businesses have a bought ledger manager? I'm not even sure I know what one is.

I am reluctant to reveal my name to speculative callers who will flood me with unsolicited mail ~ so I hope those legitimate businesses realise it is a little pointless sending vaguely headed letters. I am sure I'm not alone in consigning them to the bin.