
The A Tee Fucking O.
Well, today i spent three fucking hours on the fucking cunt of a phone to those cunts at the Australian taxation fucking office.
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I started out wanting to know my tax file number, which unlike some fucking poindexter cunt that knows all his shit of by heart, i dont know it.
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You see, my brain works a little like Homer Simpsons, my brain has an automatic disposal service for really important stuff, when i learn new things, my brain seems to eject really important stuff that i need to remember. Its just the way it works, if i really need to remember something, then i have to walk around all day deliberatly trying not to learn anything new, coz when i do, that important thing i was trying to remember, gets ejected.
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So you can pretty much gather that my tax file number got ejected about 3 mins after the cunts at the ATO gave it to me last time when i decided i wanted a cup of coffee. Well, at least thats what i summise, as i can clearly remember the cup of coffee, coz you see, thats useless information, and for that my friends, my brain is like a fucking super computer, and not a normal super computer, its like one of those humungous cunts that the CIA has to listen to every cunts phone conversations.
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Yeh, ive got a brain full of useless shit, but i cant remember the important stuff, well stiff shit thats the way it is.
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What the fuck was this rant about again ? Ive forgottern, i just learnt something new.
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Oh right, i just read the bit at the top again.
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Back to the CUNTS at the ATO.
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Ok, so i ring the fuckin number that took me 10 minutes to find on thier shitfull website, and the reason its so hard to find is beacause the cunts dont want you to ring, thats right, the fuckers dont even want to know about your problem, thats why they hide the phone number in some deep location 20 fucking pages deep into thier website.
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So i listen to the options and suprise suprise, NO FUCKING CHOICES FOR WHAT I FUCKING WANT !!
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So i push the one closest to what i need, and then the fucking shithouse muzak i think its called starts playing, and at least i think its called muzak, coz it sure aint music.
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By now ive been on the phone about 20 mins, missed about half a fucking dozen phone calls on my mobile, which funnily enough hasnt rung all day until i get on the phone to these cunts, then rings half a dozen times, and ofcourse its people i actually want to talk to.
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So after about half an hour, i get through to this cunt, and i tell him i need to know my tax file number, and he kindly tells me im in the wrong section, and he will have to put me through to another section.
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What a fucking suprise.
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20 more mins on the phone, and by this stage i swear the music, sorry, muzak, oh fuck it lets call it what it is "Fucking shithouse noise" and lets abbreviate it to "FSN", well this FSN shit i swear is giving me a fucking emolism its so fucking shit, i am fidgeting around and trying to do stuff, but ofcourse cant concentrate on anything else, coz i dont want to forget what i was ringing about when the pricks finally do answer right ?
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Well, finally another cunt answers the phone, i tell them i need to know what my tax file number is, and he says, yup sure i can tell you, but i need to identify you...... I should hope so dickwad, coz i dont want any other cunts knowing my tax file number thats for sure.
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So 1st question is my address, and ive moved about 4 times in the last 2 years, so im spitting out random address's to this dick, and finally JACKPOT, i got one right.
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Then he wants to know my date of birth, which was actually something i knew, so check, got that one ok.
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Lastly, he asks me what the amount of my tax return was last year....... what the fuck ? how the fuck am i going to remember that shit ? I thought it was about a grand, so i says $1000, and he says nup, i need to know exactly, so i can identify you....
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HOW THE FUCK AM I GOING TO REMEMBER THAT SHIT ?
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Then the professor on the other end of the phone offers to post out a form that i can fill in requesting the tax file number..... AWWW FUCK !
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I nearly lost it, and seriously if that cunt wasnt in India at some call center, he would fucking want to be, coz i seriously wanted to ring his fucking neck with the fucking phone cord, but no doubt the cunt thinks hes Major fucking Tom, to Ground Fucking Control, and is wearing one of those FUCKING head set phone things, that i would now have to shove up his arse instead. Yeh let me see you put me on hold then cunt with the headset up your arse cunt.
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By now the tool can sense im losing my patience, so he asks me to hold....... then guess what ?
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THE FUCKING MOTHERLESS GOAT ROOTING, DISEASE RIDDEN, FLEA INFESTED FUCKING CUNT HUNG UP ON ME.
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So i think to myself, how the fuck am i going to find out what my return was last year, so i ring my poindexter accountant, and ask him what my return amount was last year, and he tells me, and asks me why i want to know ?
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Well i said to him, that i needed my tax file number, and the cunts want to know the amount to identify me......
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Well guess what ? Poindexter the pasty white accountant says to me, "Got a Pen?" ummm yeh i says..... "Here it is" and he reads it out to me over the phone.........
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Want to know the best bit ? That farken Pasty Squinty little Nerd will charge me for that phone call...... and im sure he will read this and charge me for reading this shit too.
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What was the question again ? Aww fuck it, i need a beer.
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Later.