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Letter to Irish Inland Ravvenou. - Forno Bravo Forum: The Wood-Fired Oven Community

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You will notice a new forum at the top of the main page called, "Ask Me Anything". This forum will be used for live one hour "Ask Me Anything" (AMA) sessions hosted by people who are knowledgeable in different areas pertaining to wood fired ovens. How it works:
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To kick off our AMA feature, we have invited author, chef and master bread maker and host of Pizza Quest, Peter Reinhart, to be our first host! Peter will be in the Forum on Monday, February 15th, from 7:00 - 8:00 pm EST. If you are unable to be online during the live session, you can post your questions in the sticky post. Peter will answer those questions during the live session on February 15th. You can view Peter's answers to your questions as well as what happened during the live session in the session thread.

We hope you enjoy this new feature! Please let us know if there is a topic that you'd like to have as an AMA and we'll look for a host!

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Letter to Irish Inland Ravvenou.

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  • Letter to Irish Inland Ravvenou.

    This is alleged to be the actual text of a letter received by the
    Revenue Commissioners from a Co. Longford farmer in reply to an
    income Tax demand.

    Dear Sirs,

    Your letter arrived this morning in an open envelope and it would
    have given the son and myself pleasure had it not revived in us a
    melancholy reflection of what has gone before. You say you thought
    the account could have been settled long ago, and you could not
    understand why it hadn't. Well, here are the reasons:

    In 1987 I purchased a hay shed on credit. In 1988 I bought a
    combine harvester, a manure spreader, two horses, a double barrel
    shifter, two cows and ten razor back pigs, also on credit.

    In 1989 the bloody hay shed burnt to the ground leaving not a damn
    thing. I got no insurance either as the bloody premium had lapsed.
    One of the horses went lame and I loaned the other one to my
    brother who starved the poor bugger to death.

    In 1990 my father died and my brother was put away when he tried
    to marry one of his sheep named Hilda. A knacker got my daughter
    pregnant and I had to pay him a grand to stop him becoming one of
    my relatives.

    In 1991 my son got the mumps which spread to his balls and he had
    to be castrated to save his life. Later in the year I went fishing
    on the Shannon and the bloody boat overturned, drowning two of my
    sons, neither of them being the eunuch who was by now wearing his
    sisters make-up and dresses. Not long after he emigrated to
    America with the new parish priest. They are now married and
    trying for children.

    In 1992 my wife ran away with a pig jobber from Drumlish and left
    me with new born twins as a souvenir and I had to get a
    housekeeper, so I married her to keep down expenses. I had a hell
    of a job getting her pregnant (to qualify for more children's
    allowance). I went to see the doctor. He advised me to create some
    excitement at the crucial moment so that night I brought my
    shotgun to bed and when I thought the moment was right I leaned
    out of bed and shot both barrels through the window, the wife shit
    the bed, I ruptured myself, and the next morning I found I had
    blown both doors off the barn, shot my best dairy cow and killed
    the knackerer who was in the hay loft with my daughter trying to
    get more money out of me, which he did because I had to pay for
    his bloody funeral expenses.

    The next year, 1993, someone cut the balls off my prize bull,
    poisoned the water, and set fire to the house. I was bolloxed and
    took to the drink and did not stop until all I had left was a
    pocket watch and a weak bladder. Winding the watch and running for
    a piss kept me busy for a time.

    This year I took heart again and bought (on the hire purchase) a
    bulldozer, tractor and trailer and a new bull. Then the Shannon
    flooded and washed the bloody lot away, my second wife got V.D.
    from a land inspector and my last surviving son died from wiping
    his arse on a poisoned rabbit. I had to put down four dogs who
    were worrying the sheep.

    It surprises me very much that you say you will cause trouble if
    I don't pay up. If you can think of anything I've missed I should
    like to know about it. Trying to get money out of me will be like
    trying to poke butter up a hedgehog's hole with a red hot needle.

    I'm praying for a cloud of cat's shit to pass your way and I hope
    it will fall on you and the bastards in your office who sent me
    this final demand.

    Yours for more credit



    John Murphy"
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