Too right, you're going to complain. And you intend a very strongly worded complaint indeed.
Grinding the heels of your hands into your ears to block out the howls from outside, you make your way to your library. Your phone book lies chained to a heavy oak lectern. You open the book carefully, carefully; it's very old, very withered, and the cover crumbles a little between the tips of your fingers. The pages have yellowed from their original light parakeet color to a more jaundiced shade.
You don't have to flip too far forward; the local government numbers reside at the very front of the book. But though you look ferociously, you cannot find an exact listing for "Your Local Council." There are some promising near-misses, though, and you decide to try one of them.