Wife lambasts Revenue Scrooges

THEY’RE an ungrateful lot, the Revenue Commissioners. Wouldn’t send a man a Christmas card. Not even after he’d handed them a million and a bit of his hard-earned dough from a single business deal in a single year.

Then there were all those other millions in all those other years real millions too, not any of those namby pamby euro-duds. They were practically snowing down on the tax office from a big profit cloud personally placed above their heads by Santa Jim.

And not a dicky bird in return. Not a rebate. Not a sly return to sender. Not a Christmas card. Not even the one at the back of the pack with the drunk-looking robin on the front that only gets sent to great aunties with failing sight.