After a heated conversation with our local car mechanic who has just gouged an extra $200 out of us, (happy bloody holiday to you too) I am reminded of a couple of characters who, faced with unfair bills, took their anger out in a couple of creative ways.

Fishy payments

In the UK, in 1990, there was a near revolution when Community Tax or Poll tax was introduced. Almost overnight, local taxes (or rates as they were called) doubled, tripled, quadrupled under a new "fairer" system based around the number of contributing adults in your home. This was at a time of recession, so not every adult was working, a simple fact that escaped Margaret Thatcher and her gougers.

I recall a guy who submitted a very creative Poll tax check to the government! Apparently, a check doesn't have to be made of paper, and as long as you have all the basic info written down, any medium is legal tender. He sent his payment written on a dead fish.

Paid in pennies.

When Poll tax rioting got out of hand, they removed it from the public consciousness and replaced it with Council Tax. Same shit different day.

A bit of background. Having worked out that not every adult could work, the Government decided that if you owned a home, you were probably working. If you were working you could afford to pay a tax that your unemployed spouse or over-16 year-old kids living with you, couldn't.

To add insult to injury, this was in an era when the economy was jittery and the government were going for broke, promoting ownership of homes you couldn't afford. Mortgages up to your eyeballs and dole queues were all the mode, and millions of good citizens were house rich cash poor with unemployment hanging over their head too. It was yet another flawed tax. Bottom line, Britons needed a tax based on a house they couldn't afford like a hole in the head.

To make matters worse, the value of your property was judged by the local council, not by the market. Some jerk would drive around and appraise homes from the car. And it wasn't even a house by house appraisal. You were taxed in neighborhood bands, living proof that the average applies to nobody.

A friend of mine lived out in the country. He had a small cottage, no streetlighting, almost no road, and a once weekly refuse collection that usually left more trash on the kerb than in the back of the truck. He was livid at his Council tax bill, in the upper band. The council said he lived in a nice area where houses were expensive, streetlights were abundant and the trash was a delight to behold, ergo he had to be included with those upper band payers. They ignored every letter he ever sent, every complaint...

Imagine the look of horror when he turned up at the Council Offices with the press and a sack of coins that he could barely drag in alone. It took them hours to count it out, and in this case, all those pennies were legal tender. Love it.

Unfortunately he has been a marked man ever since. Simple procedures like applying for planning permission, to upgrade his simple home to look more in-line with the other high tax band properties all around him, end in disputes and delays.

Merry Christmas to all. And if the local mechanic finds superglue in his door locks on Christmas night, it will be nothing to do with me. I'm the disgruntled customer due to send my payment wrapped in reindeer dung.