Dawn

Dawn

Wednesday, June 20, 2012


I went to the tax office today to get the forms I need to make my declaration(s). Or, rather, I went yesterday and they told me the office had been moved a mile or so to the edge of town. Having gone there today and passed through the airport-style security, I approached the window where they were selling (yes, selling) the forms. I was the only customer but, once the woman there had got over her surprise that I wasn't doing this on the internet, she told me I needed to get a ticket and pointed to a machine two metres away. So I got my ticket V82 and then joined the queue at the window. Except that I didn't as there was still no-one there but me. Having got the form for my income, I asked the woman if the Wealth Tax had been re-introduced and, if so, could I have that form to check if it covered me. Yes, she said, it has. But the form was now being sold by the regional tax office in some other part of town. As I often say, I'm sure all this makes sense to someone. I suppose it does keep two people under-employed, as opposed to just one. But I preferred it when both forms were available from the same office right in the centre of town. But, then, I'm only a customer.

Which group of people do you think represents these percentages:-
  • 1% of the general population?
  • 4% of company chief executives?
  • 25% of prisoners? (And responsible for 60-70% of disturbances.)
The answer, of course, is psychopaths - infamous for their inability to empathise with others. Though some of them can fake this, apparently. Reading a few pages of Paul Preston's mammoth work The Spanish Inquisition this afternoon I found myself wondering just how high this percentage was in the military commanders who drove the 1936 uprising. The details of the numberless atrocities defy belief.

So, Greece can't meet the terms of their bailout package. Can there really be anyone on the planet who believed they would?

Talking of credibility . . . Does anyone know what the G20 Group actually decided on? In detail, I mean. Where the Devil always lurks.

Just one (third party) comment on the England-Ukraine match of Monday night - However many good habits Roy Hodgson tries to instil, England’s inability to control territory and possession turns every match into a stomach-churning ride. Do not expect Italy on Sunday to be any different. Exactly. Very unworthy winners last night. Even ignoring the goal controversy.

Celebrating the softest goal ever scored in footballing history, Wayne Rooney mimicked the application of hairspray to his expensively-acquired coiffure. It's hard to imagine that 30 years ago footballers would be using such a thing. Never mind admitting it in public. Possibly not even 20 years ago. But I knew that times had changed for ever when, about 15 years ago, I counted thirteen beauty products on the shelves of the bathroom used by my teenage stepson. And I don't mean I realised he was gay.

Finally . . . I was pleased to find in Vigo this afternoon I'm not the only one to think of buying a (large) plastic owl to keep the pigeons at bay. Here's a foto of one hanging above customers outside a café in the city. I've yet to test mine but, weather permitting, will do so tomorrow. I have, though, tried out my TV-be-Gone - with great success. I'd previously decided it probably wouldn't be wise to switch off all the TVs in the bar in which I was watching the Spain match on Monday night.


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