Christmas draws near and it's another Friday, some more fun. Enjoy the random selection presented today.
Reprint of a letter sent to Chris Addison, The Guardian, from Inland Revenue:
Dear Mr Addison,
I am writing to you to express our thanks for your more-than-prompt reply to our latest communication, and also to answer some of the points you raise.
I will address them, as ever, in order.
Firstly, I must take issue with your description of our last as a "begging letter". It might perhaps more properly be referred to as a "tax demand". This is how we, at the Inland Revenue, have always, for reasons of accuracy, traditionally referred to such documents.
Secondly, your frustration at our adding to the "endless stream of crapulent whining and panhandling vomited daily through the letterbox on to the doormat" has been noted. However, whilst I have naturally not seen the other letters to which you refer, I would cautiously suggest that their being from "pauper councils, Lombardy pirate banking houses and pissant gas-mongerers" might indicate that your decision to "file them next to the toilet in case of emergencies" is at best a little ill-advised.
In common with my own organisation, it is unlikely that the senders of these letters do see you as a "lackwit bumpkin" or, come to that, a "sodding charity". More likely they see you as a citizen of Great Britain, with a responsibility to contribute to the upkeep of the nation as a whole.
Which brings me to my next point. Whilst there may be some spirit of truth in your assertion that the taxes you pay "go to shore up the canker-blighted, toppling folly that is the Public Services", a moment's rudimentary calculation ought to disabuse you of the notion that the government in any way expects you to "stump up for the whole damned party" yourself. The estimates you provide for the Chancellor's disbursement of the funds levied by taxation, whilst colourful, are, in fairness, a little off the mark. Less than you seem to imagine is spent on "junkets for Bunterish lickspittles" and "dancing whores", whilst far more than you have accounted for is allocated to, for example, "that box-ticking facade of a university system".
A couple of technical points arising from direct queries:
1. The reason we don't simply write "Muggins" on the envelope has to do with the vagaries of the postal system;
2. You can rest assured that "sucking the very marrows of those with nothing else to give" has never been considered as a practice because even if the Personal Allowance didn't render it irrelevant, the sheer medical logistics involved would make it financially unviable.
I trust this has helped. In the meantime, whilst I would not in any way wish to influence your decision one way or the other, I ought to point out that even if you did choose to "give the whole foul jamboree up and go and live in India" you would still owe us the money. Please forward it by Friday.
H J Lee,
Here's something to think about:
I recently picked a new primary care doctor. After two visits and exhaustive lab tests, he said I was doing fairly well for my age (I am past seventy).
A little concerned about that comment, I couldn't resist asking him, 'Do you think I'll live to see 80?'
He asked, 'Do you smoke tobacco, or drink beer, wine or hard liquor?'
'Oh no,' I replied. 'I'm not doing drugs, either!'
Then he asked, 'Do you eat rib-eye steaks and barbecued ribs?'
'I said, 'Not much... My former doctor said red meat is very unhealthy!'
'Do you spend a lot of time in the sun, like playing golf, boating, sailing, hiking, or bicycling?'
'No, I don't,' I said.
He asked, 'Do you gamble, drive fast cars, or have a lot of sex?'
'No,' I said...
He looked at me and said, 'Then, why do you even give a shit?'
A husband and wife attend a small service at the local church one Sunday morning.
The man was very moved by the preacher's sermon, so he stopped to shake the preacher's hand. Reverend, that was the best damn sermon I ever did heard!"
The Reverend replied, "Oh! Why, thank you sir, but please, I'd appreciate it if you didn't use profanity in the Lord's house."
"I'm sorry Reverend, but I can't help myself... it was such a damn good sermon!"
The Reverend replied, "Sir, please, I cannot have you behaving this way in Church!"
"Okay Reverend, but I just wanted you to know that I thought it was so damn good, that I put $5,000 in the collection plate."
The Reverend's eyes opened wide as he remarked, "No Shit!"
Two bits of corn today, one a repost and one that uses American idiom . . .
A string walks into a bar with a few friends and orders a beer. The bartender says, "I'm sorry, but we don't serve strings here."
The string goes back to his table. He ties himself in a loop and messes up the top of his hair. He walks back up to the bar and orders a beer.
The bartender squints at him and says, "Hey, aren't you a string?"
The string says, "Nope, I'm a frayed knot."
(Boom Boom Tish)
Story of a conductor
He was a mediocre conductor of a mediocre orchestra. He had been having problems with the basses; they were the least professional of his musicians. It was the last performance of the season, Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, which required extra effort from the basses at the end. Earlier that evening, he found the basses celebrating one of their birthdays by passing a bottle around. As he was about to cue the basses, he knocked over his music stand. The sheet music scattered. As he stood in front of his orchestra, his worst fear was realised: it was the bottom of the 9th, no score and the basses were loaded.