... which reminded me of this joke:
A father walks into a restaurant with his young son and gives the boy 3 pennies to play with to keep him occupied.
Suddenly, the boy starts choking, going blue in the face. The father realises the boy has swallowed the coins and starts slapping him on the back.
The boy coughs up 2 of the pennies, but keeps choking.
Looking at his son, the father is panicking, shouting for help.
A well-dressed, attractive, and serious-looking woman, in a blue business suit is sitting at a coffee bar reading a newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee.
At the sound of the commotion, she looks up, puts her coffee cup down, neatly folds the newspaper and places it on the counter, gets up from her seat and makes her way, unhurried, across the restaurant.
Reaching the boy, the woman carefully drops his pants; takes hold of the boy's testicles and starts to squeeze and twist, gently at first and then ever so firmly.
After a few seconds the boy convulses violently and coughs up the last penny, which the woman deftly catches in her free hand.
Releasing the boy's testicles, the woman hands the penny to the father and walks back to her seat at the coffee bar without saying a word.
As soon as he is sure that his son has suffered no ill effects, the father rushes over to the woman and starts thanking her saying, "I've never seen anybody do anything like that before, it was fantastic. Are you a doctor?"
'No', the woman replied. 'I'm with the Australian Taxation Office."
Together with their tax assessment I received a complimentary pencil sharpener:
The back of the assessment states, "You must keep the records, receipts and other documentation you have used to prepare your return. Generally you need to keep them for five years."
Well, I have done better than that: my records go back as far as 1982 - and looking through them again is a bit like watching an episode of "This is your Life", a life of blood, sweat and even the occasional tear. It's been a long and eventful time!
... and to think that I have now reached the age when even old tax returns bring on rashes of nostalgia! Sometimes I feel as though I am sitting in a rowing-boat, with facing backwards being the only way forward.
