The Royal extra terrestrian alien freaks

On the corner of Nicholson Street and West Richmond Street, just a couple of metres from me hoos and opposite LIDL, there is a branch of the Royal Mail (not to be mixed up with the Royal Mile, which is something completely different, but try explaining that to an Aussie!). In this post office, two guys are working. It's always the same two guys, they must be there 24/7 and probably the two massive shelves of envelopes, thick brown tape, rubber bands (assorted) and childrens scissors really are some kind of fold down beds, so they never leave the place.
Everytime I have to post something, I encounter the two of them. I can't really tell them apart, they're actually quite the same. They look like some Indian underground chainsmoking baked potatoes in beige shirts (ALWAYS beige shirts!!) and knitted waistcoats. Everything about them just melts together, colourwise, like some huge pot of custard that has been left out in the sun.

So when I go there and say:
"I've got a letter here to Edinburgh." (Meaning: just sell me a 42p stamp and let me get on with my life.),
they will always say something like:
"Husssnuwidfasshnu".
"Beg pardon?!"
"Hasfdeehhussim!"
"Whaa? Oh, yes , to Edinburgh."
"Menehessefdrrrrr."
"You shut your trap about my mother!"
"Hassne messsfll brrps. ... S!"
"Oh, yes, the scale, here, I put it on it, don't brain fizzzz me, please."
"Abademsiddfl."
"Hm??"
"Haaaa-asufel*$^"
"Oh, yes, 42p, there you go, keep the change."

I am convinced that these two are some kind of alien brothers from planet Zorrk, sent to earth to spy on our ... postal system?? Really I don't know what the Spaceman Spiff they hope to achieve by sitting in a stuffy little post office all the time, but if I knew, they probably would have brain fried me anyway. Or I found out already and they just had the relevant part of my brain removed surgically in one of their ships orbiting Earth so I wouldn't tell the Earth Government about their plans. Well. I like my brain, so I won't investigate any further. Just so you know: if you never receive any letters from me, it's not because I don't write any; it's because they probably dyed them beige and ate them.