Friday, December 14, 2012
This is reputed to be the text of a letter sent by an Australian farmer in response to a final tax demand:
Your letter arrived this morning in an open envelope and it would have given the son and myself much pleasure had it not revived in us a melancholy reflection of what had gone before. You say you thought the account should have been settled long ago and you could not understand why it hadn't; well here are the reasons.
In 1954 I bought a sawmill on credit. In 1955 I bought a team of horses, two ponies, a timber wagon, a double barrel shotgun and two razorback pigs, all on credit. In 1956 the bloody mill was burnt to the ground leaving not a damn thing; one of my ponies died and I loaned the other to a stupid idiot who starved the poor devil to death. Then I joined the Church.
In 1957 my father died and my brother was jailed for assault. A tramp seduced my daughter and I had to pay the swine $500 to stop him becoming a relative. In 1958 one of my boys got the mumps. It spread to his nuts and he had to be castrated to save his life. Later that year while out fishing, the boat overturned drowning two of my boys - neither being the one who was castrated.
In 1959 my wife ran away with a sheep shearer and left me with twins as a souvenir.
I then had to have a housekeeper whom I married to keep down expenses. I had a hell of a job to make her pregnant, so I went to the doctor and he advised me to create some excitement at the crucial moment. That night I took my shotgun to bed with me and at the time I thought was right I fired the gun through the window. The wife crapped the bed, I ruptured myself and the next morning I found I had shot the best cow I ever had.
In 1960 someone cut the nuts off my bull. I was finished and took to drink and I didn't stop until all I had left was a pocket watch and a weak bladder. Winding the watch and running for a pee kept me busy for a while.
After a time I took heart again and bought on credit a manure spreader, a reaper and binder and another cow. Then came the floods and washed the bloody lot away.
In 1961 my wife got VD from a travelling salesman and one of my sons died from wiping his bum on an infected rabbit skin.
It surprises me very much that you say you will cause me trouble if I don't pay up. If you can think of anything I've missed out on I should like to know about it.
Trying to get money out of me is like trying to poke butter up a porcupines bum with a red hot needle, so I wish you luck in your efforts. I'm praying for a shower of possum crap to come your way and I hope the centre of it is over the bunch of mongrels in your office who sent me this final demand