It's common knowledge that regular, punctual mail delivery is a thing of the past.  Parcels are lost, denied over or stolen.  However, within the May-madness we have just endured, Lux Post seems to have gone fully postal.

Delivery vans sit parked for days instead of hours, and counter staff have gone feral.  We've been looking down the street at vehicles that are not getting any closer.

An accountant from Bertrange said "I was late for work, so kindly held up my ticket number as someone pushed in front which is not unusual.  But then the staff member snarled and leaped at me, thankfully straight into the plexiglas.  I should have known something was off from the necklace of human ears she was wearing that day."

Lo and behold though, said staff member reverted to her cigarette stinking, ketchup -stained self the very next day.

The Splice can confirm that on a mission to the sorting office in Krackelschaff during the latest storm, the delivery trucks were all driving around on their own like in Maximum Overdrive.  It was scary and cool.

Circus;
(Noun)

1. (Luxembourg) A blatant double violation of false advertising and unscrupulous overcharging.  Features NONE of the attractions shown, but it does have little dogs jumping through hoops, disintegrating furniture and a fat gimp dressed as a minion.  A prune faced old tea bag may also dress up as Elsa from Frozen to really mentally scar your kids.  Prices double those of surrounding countries.
2. (Rest of World) Stunning entertainment for all the family, usually from as far away as Russia or China.  Featuring wild animals doing tricks, gymnasts and various other worthwhile spectacles. 

Schuberfouer
(Noun)

1. ​Please see entry number 1 under 'Circus.'

The 'Ghost House' of Strassen is no more, and its only occupant since the Middle Ages is starting to worry.  In human form the phantom was a prosperous farmer under Dutch rule; but was savagely murdered when Count Vlad invaded with his vampire bats and stuff.*

The inconsolable apparition told the Splice, "I had a whole farmyard to brood and glower in.  I even used to rearrange some figurines on a window sill to freak out pedestrians.  Not to mention all the great times I had before I died."

"But now it's going to be one of those triple A rated monstrosities with no soul and loads of screaming kids, who will ironically be haunting me."

The faceless Man Co of the new faceless building commented, "Electric barbecues only, no pets except guide dogs, and any sort of ghost or spirit will raise the monthly charges considerably we are afraid."

*True story