A letter from the taxman. I open it, urgent fingers fumbling. It’s a short letter on the official letterhead of the Deputy Commissioner. The Deputy Commish, as darkly powerful as Gina, as shapelessly feared as Rupert, as suddenly potent as Clive, has taken time to write me a letter.
The letter reads: “Returned herewith a document enclosed with your Bass payment.”
No ‘Dear Howard’, no salutation at all.
Above the name of the Deputy the letter is inked with a couple of initials preceded by the notation ’pp’.
What does the enclosure reveal of me to the Dep Commish? What does she now know about me from this item of my private correspondence?
I peer at the attached document. It is a cheque drawn on my bank account, signed by me, intended as a donation to an institution I like to support.
That institution has been accused of cultural pluralism. Rumours speak of a nasty Green streak running through it. It doesn’t hate Israel nearly enough, nor for that matter does it conflate Islam with Islamism.
With the new anti-mass-terror initiatives (which I wholeheartedly support. Honest. We really can’t let in all those RohyngianSriLankanTigerTamils), my support for the Institute will see me forfeit the presumption of innocence. And truly who can blame Mister Abbott-Shorten for trying to protect the country in all its nonasylumseeking (“a wonderful fabric”) diversity?
Once the terror police haul me in for questioning, they’ll shave my head and send me to the showers. There the CCTV cameras will home in on the (absent) foreskin. I won’t have a middleleg to stand on: circumcision will mark me as Aboriginal or as a Son of Abraham. Tantamount to rejecting Team Australia. Thank goodness ASIO will have all those extra millions to detect and arrest and question dodgy characters such as I; and laws to suppress any notice; and no need to charge me while holding me. Habeas Corpus has Habeat its day. About time.
I will flee the country. I will change my name, I will buy a dodgy passport; I’ll swim to New Zealand, claim asylum in the Ecuadoran Embassy.
Do they have the internet in Ecuador? If not you may never again find me on your screens.
Farewell, Shalom, Salaam.
Dear Doc. Howard! If you are ever in need of a character reference I’m here for you! that is If you can smuggle a message to me in time?? xxxx fellow human Bruce.
could be handy, bruce
just write : “he means well”
I was preparing to laugh at the opening, but it’s not funny in any way at all.
please do laugh or smile, hilary
i was just being silly
for a change
i prefer silly to the serious person i am becoming
we are too young to grow up
What would you have the fiscal fiend do – file your correspondence with the order to your banker to pay the institution you support in the circular filing cabinet or return it, as they have done, to you so that you may redirect it? Would you have preferred them to redirect it for you (assuming of course there was an address available to them).
I think they’ve acted honourably notwithstanding the absence of a salutation.
i would have her do just as she did
i paid my tax to the chief commish
she returned the unintended chq, i forwarded it to my intended recipient and the taxman’s letter furnished an anxious-curious moment that gave birth to silly thoughts
and those comprise the content