Wednesday, June 20, 2007
I am to be Disappeared by the New Regime
My days are numbered. For me, the Brown years have already begun and I expect a midnight knock on the door. Four Brown shirts will then escort me to a Ford Falcon and I shall be subjected to four days of torture in Essex after which, heavily drugged, I shall be dropped from a helicopter into the Thames Estuary. I say this because yesterday I was mysteriously harassed by HM Revenue and Customs. A lady so thick she had to be some kind of cover called me on my mobile and insisted I must be Andrew somebody or other. She asked me three times the name of my company and three times I told her I was self-employed. She repeatedly insisted I had left a message at HMRC, I told her I had never called them in my life. 'You do not even know who I am,' I said. She rifled noisily through some files; I whiled away my time composing a verse epic and a couple of novels. She concluded that, indeed, she did not know who I was. 'What is your VAT number?' 'You have heard of identity theft, I assume? I don't give any details to total strangers.' 'But,' she wailed, 'I am trying to arrange VAT inspection visits and I have a big pile of files on my desk.' 'But I am not in there, so there is no point in continuing this conversation is there?' 'Hmmmm, eerrrr, weeeelll, no.' 'Goodbye.' In Brownland this cannot go unpunished.
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A blog about, among other things, imaginary ideas - What ifs? and Imagine thats. What if photographs looked nothing like what we see with our eyes? Imagine that the Berlin Wall had never come down. What if we were the punchline of an interminable joke? All contributions welcome.
Ahh, I'd stay well away from Portmeirion, were I you.
ReplyDeleteI agree, Vince, also large beach balls.
ReplyDeleteooh, you ain't heard the last of this, I bet. Now you've dissed them in public!
ReplyDeleteI've actually found them very nice - last time the VATman rang to ask if I needed any advice on reclaiming tax. The bloke sounded quite concerned I wasn't getting my fair share. bizarre.
You make my point for me, Ian. Those were the Blair years.
ReplyDeleteI think perhaps this political new world order are perhaps a kind of Jesuitical bunch united by the general theme of original sin and hence man's innate guiltiness before God and, more importantly, the State.
ReplyDeletecouldn't you have tried to get some phone sex from her? e.g.:
ReplyDelete"okay, so, um, you want my National Insurance number, birth date, and my bank account number. All right, oh, by the way, what are you wearing? what colour knickers, exactly? Quid pro quo, i tell you something, you tell me something. That's how it goes down, or not at all."
another good ruse is to make her think you called her, e.g.:
"I see, yes, that's reasonable. Now, we can offer very good rates on greenhouses for tax officers, so if you can just give me your home phone number, plus your NI number, I'll put your details on the system. What do you mean, you called me? That's impossible, i'm not paid to take calls, i'm outbound only. Is your name Domingo?" etc.
If Bryan tried to engage one of Her Majesty's minions in phone sex, Elberry, I fear he'd never see the light of day again.
ReplyDeletein the face of Blair and his troll-like henchman Brown, perhaps our only hope is for Appleyard to infiltrate the G from within by offering phone sex to the enemies of liberty, starting with tax officers and making his way up to Margaret Beckett. And Gordon Brown.
ReplyDeleteSomeone has to talk dirty to these people, damn it. i'd do it but i don't actually know anything about politics.
Politricks is I think what Peter Tosh used to describe it.
ReplyDelete