TONY Humphrys is bending over his sorting desk in the Royal Mail's Delivery Office in Canterbury Street, Blackburn.

It is 6am and Tony has been here for more than an hour. He is feverishly sorting the mail into its relevant streets and numbers so he can get out on his round by 7am.

He sits at a desk in one of the 20 or so aisles that run the length of the modern warehouse.

The postmen and women that surround him are similarly engaged -- it is a hive of activity. At this rate of work it is difficult to see how the Royal Mail could not be a success.

Immediately to Tony's left sits Carol Scott, 45, and to her left sits 34-year-old Chris Oddie, or "Spike". Chris is pulling Tony's leg. "They call him the camel you know," he shouts as he walks back to his desk. "It's the way he eats, he looks like a camel," he explains, with actions.

Tony does not say a word, he remains at his desk with a broad smile on his face, he seems to be enjoying the ribbing and general banter. It is clear why he refused to take a sabbatical while he was mayor.

Tony loves his job, you can see it in his walk, it may be a clich but he really does have a spring in his step.

He loves the shopfloor jokes and he loves his role as representative of the Communications Workers Union.

According to his colleagues he goes out of his way to help others. Even Chris took time off from the jokes to say a good word or two. "Seriously, he's a really good lad he does a lot for us, he's always willing to help. He takes all this ribbing about him being mayor and councillor and laughs along with us.

"I wanted to go to a wedding and he helped with my morning delivery so I could go. He gets things done for you, I know he's not my councillor but when I asked him to sort something out he did it, straight away."

Peter Quinn, 38, said: "He goes out of his way to help, he offered to come down to St Joseph's Youth Club and chat with the kids. He didn't have to.

"There was also a man who lost his holiday tickets and he organised a whip round so he could take his family on holiday."

Tony leaves the depot 20 minutes later than usual at 7.20am and makes his way to the Higher Croft Estate and Fishmoor estate in Blackburn.

He starts at the Post Office in Manxman Road and sets a blistering pace with the loose plastic buckle on his bag marking time like an aerobic instructor.

Over the shoulder of his rapidly-disappearing back he offers some advice. "I always tell new postmen and women not to be afraid of dogs, they can tell if you're afraid. I've only been bitten once, it was down in Pleckgate Road.

"The woman who lived at the house thought she'd found an intruder in her garage the night before and the dog must have thought it was me.

"It was only a small terrier, but it's the small ones that you have to worry about, the big ones are fine."

As he walks up to a house and pushes two letters through, a particularly large and vicious-sounding dog launches itself at the door and the incoming mail.

"But of course you never know what's hiding behind a letter box," he says without flinching.

He moves on to Scarborough Road and delivers another bundle of letters before he sees an elderly lady standing to attention and smartly saluting from her door.

Mary Smith is 89 years old and lives alone. She said: "He's come around here for years and years, he's smashing.

"He looks out for the old couple across the road. Both are in their 80s or 90s and he pops in two or three times a week.

"I give him a Christmas card every year and every time he passes I salute him."

Tony walks down Lytham Road towards the sound of a barking dog. The dog is called Gina, she is a five-year-old Cairn terrier who belongs to Marie Wilson, a pensioner who lives in Lytham Road.

She said: "My little dog can hear him at the other end of the street. She tells me he's coming.

"He's the most wonderful postman we've ever had. When I first moved to this house people sometimes put the wrong number on the letters, but he would always know it was for me."

Further down Lytham Road he comes to Tracy Hays, 38, who waves to him.

She said: "He sends me a postcard when he goes on holiday, I keep them and pass them around to all the girls here in Lytham Road. "We're all friends and I have to pass them around or they get jealous!"

He returns to the Post Office in Manxman Road to pick up another batch of letters.

"The van driver brings all the letters down and the shop's staff look after me, they make me a tea when it's winter," he said. "The only problem is that now I'm mayor they call me Tony Blair when I come in."

For a man of 58, Tony is in exceptional good fettle and as he moves down onto the Fishmoor estate there is no let up in the pace. He clearly enjoys this part of the day and savours every minute of it.

As he turns into Broughton Close Tony bounds up to a door and rings the bell. After a moment a lady answers and hands him a bag of mints.

She moves slowly with a lot of effort and she is clearly in a great deal of pain.

Sally Gormley, an 84-year-old who lives on her own in Broughton Close, has a bad hip and is housebound. Tony helps her by posting her letters.

She said: "I don't know what I would do without him, I have been housebound for several years now, even if he is not on he tells the person who is to call in and pick up my mail."

The statement he gave at the end of his round at around 10.30am sums it all up.

Stopping for the first time in four and a half hours, he turned to speak to me.

"I could have given all this up for year while I was mayor," he said gesturing with his arm, "but how could I? How could anyone?"