A wee tale…

Meanwhile, north of the border in the sleepy little hamlet of Aberdeen, Rab McGrabitall has been summoned to the local Benefits Office.

‘Good morning Mr….McGrabitall isn’t it?

‘Yes. Good morning’

‘My name is Richard Head, although most people seem to call me Dick. Anyway, I’ve asked you here just to check a few things on your latest application. Purely routine, shouldn’t take long.’

Dick: ‘Right. As I said, just want to go through your latest application, make sure everything is hunky dory. We do that every so often, have to I’m afraid. Your name is Rab McGrabitall?’

Rab: ‘Yes, that’s correct.’

Dick: ‘You are thirty years old, married to Mrs McGrabitall….variously also known as Mrs McSmith and Mrs McJones?….and also collecting benefits I see on the computer’

Rab: ‘Stage names.’

Dick: ‘I quite understand. My wife’s a thespian, too.’

Rab: Sorry to hear that.’

Dick: ‘You live at…. ‘

Rab: ‘Number 2 Lucre Avenue’

Dick: ‘And you are claiming for 36 children if I’m not mistaken?’

Rab: ‘At the last count, yes’.

Dick:’Ah. I see a problem here. Quite a glaring one, actually. Do you see my problem Mr McGrabitall?’

Rab: ‘Err…’fraid not Dick.’

Dick: ‘Of course not, of course not. Sorry about that. I always forget that I’m the trained professional with a keen eye for detail and you’re….not. Can’t be too careful these days, you know. More than my job’s worth to overlook even the most minor or seemingly insignificant little detail.’

Rab: ‘It can’t be easy. So what’s the problem, Dick?’

Dick: ‘Well. According to our records, there is no Lucre Avenue. Lucre Street, yes, but no Lucre Avenue. What do you say to that Mt McGrabitall?’

Rab: ‘Silly me. Bit snobbish, I know, but we always now refer to it as ‘the Avenue’. The wife started it actually, but it caught on. Almost second nature now.’

Dick: ‘Ah, I see. Now why on earth didn’t I think of that, perfectly logical if you ask me. Must be slipping, can’t have that, not a man in my position. ‘

Rab: ‘No. maybe you need a holiday’.

Dick: ‘Maybe I do. Anyway, sorry to have wasted your time Mr McGrabitall.’

Rab: ‘No problem. Dick, no problem. Was in town anyway to have the Ferrari valeted.’

Dick: So, how would you like the 80,000 pounds? Cash, or transferred to your bank in…let me see…Liechtenstein’.

Rab: ‘Cash will do fine.’

Dick: ‘One more thing before you go, almost forgot. If you need to add any children to your claim, another set of quads perhaps, just ring the details through, save you coming all the way into the centre. Parking can be a nightmare at times.’

Rab: ‘Will do. Thanks, and take it easy’.

Irvin Fraser, a thirty year old fish filleter from Torry, Aberdeen, successfully claimed for 36 children and received 80,000 pounds of taxpayers’ cash. He actually has two children of his own and a stepson. He lived a lavish lifestyle until eventually caught.

Fraser stated that it all started by ‘chance’ when he added one child to his tax credit claim and from there it just snowballed until he was claiming for 36 rugrats. He blames the Tax Office for not spotting it earlier! He says he was never asked for birth certificates and just had to ring in to amend his claim. A quick phone call and the money was on its way to his bank.

For their part, HM Revenue and Customs insist they have proper procedures in place to stop benefits cheats but sometimes one gets through the net! What are they trawling for, blue whales???

%d bloggers like this: