Rare sympathy and empathy for a football player

I am not, in any way, a football fan. Asked to name a footballer though, the name Rio Ferdinand would be one of the more high profile stars I could bring to mind. I have as little sympathy for these players generally as I have time for the “beautiful game” frankly if you asked me to describe a beautiful game, perhaps Trivial Pursuit would be a candidate, the symmetry, those coloured plastic pie sections and the graphics on the board too. If a footballer wants to have an affair with a high class call girl, it is up to him, if he expects his shenanigans to remain secret, then it does rather show why he kicks a ball around a bit of grass, rather than having a job which involves intelligence.

Despite my negativity, I did sympathise with Rio Ferdinand recently with the story of his stalker. According to the BBC she made a number of trips to his home, whereupon she demanded she speak with him. Susanne Ibru was convicted of harassment and sentenced to ten weeks in jail and had a ten year restraining order imposed on her. She may not visit the town in which Ferdinand resides, nor approach him or any of his family. Ibru also turned the court into a farce when she allegedly sacked her defence counsel before continuing to represent herself. It would appear she had the foresight to realise the verdict would not go her way and failed to return to court for the verdict. On her re arrest, it is reported she spat in the face of the arresting officer. The ten week custodial sentence is all I can see mentioned, although she admitted when brought back to court, the spitting incident. Ibru was described as an “accomplished athlete” who had aspirations to become a sports agent. A profession where you focus on other people’s positives to promote them, not unlike the business of public relations. The judge told her “"The pre-sentence report describes you as living in a fantasy world, unable to interpret social situations and boundaries…."You display a predatory and manipulative lifestyle and try to deliberately mislead interviewers." My interpretation of this, is a very dangerous individual. I believe, had she been a man harassing a woman, the sentence would have been much harsher. I also wonder how long it took Rio Ferdinand, despite his wealth and influence, to try to convince police to take him seriously. Did he get the inference to “man up” or, as those who have never experienced such a psychotic individual’s attentions, the suggestion that he should take it all as a compliment?
Maybe the above phrases echo in the minds of the majority of the public who have not experienced such manipulative individuals themselves. It is an established notion, that paedophiles are mentally ill and they receive no public sympathy for their actions. They tear lives apart and leave deep emotional scars on the individuals they target and those close to their victims. Thankfully, laws are there to protect those seen as vulnerable and massive agencies exist focussed on child protection. The same cannot be said of stalking or harassment, it is bad for women who receive it, for men, it obviously does not happen, oh no, of course it has just been reported that it does. “Sticks and stones may break your bones but someone turning up in the dead of night ranting or threatening suicide has absolutely no effect” Food for thought?

Tax

Recently, I had the occasion to make a claim for tax relief. It kicks in if an individual is working thirty or more hours per week; helpful when times are hard and hopefully, before long, I will be making so much money, I will have to pay it all back.. Back in October, when I began self employment, my advisor gave me a form prefilled to be signed and returned but I was too honest for my own good and did not return it due to the odd disco here and there not mounting up hour sufficiently. Straight forward enough to just apply now then? Well it is, in theory. They found no trace of me living here, despite having my payslips, P60, benefit stuff and every voter's roll since moving to this address. "I needed to attend my local tax office with two proofs of ID, there, they would have the form ready to finish off and the application would be done" I arrived at Ruby house in good time (I know!) Produced my DL and a bank statement and was then handed a form. "Is that prefilled then?" I asked. "Oh no, we cant do that but take it away and fill it in" "Oh so can I not hand it back to you to get it into the system?" No, we cant do that, but go over to a booth and if you are struggling use the quick dial to call the helpline" I got my name and address down then had to call the helpline. Of course I hadn't taken any information with me such as my self employment tax ref (not my NI, I've known it off by heart since my wallet was stolen in '89) nor my income for last year, it is some notional figure made up in a dusty office somewhere. "Hello help line ?? speaking" Hello I'm in my local tax office having just confirmed my ID, can you give me my tax reference please?" "No we cannot give out such information over the phone" "But I'm in my local tax office as I speak.." "No we cant divulge personal information" "What about my income details for the form?" same answer. She helpfully suggested she could post out a tax coding notice but it may take up to fourteen days. I respectfully thanked her but declined, adding that I could probably drive home quicker. I got up to return the pen to the advisor and asked if, maybe he could find my TAX REFERENCE NUMBER. "Oh no, we dont hold that kind of information here. "But you're the tax office" I almost sobbed. Remember, all I had to do back in October was sign and date. Instead, a drive to Aberdeen on a day I could have been working, fuel, parking charges, a long walk as, with new tyres and a lowish fuel tank, I could not guarantee clearing the height limit on a multi storey. As I walked back to the car on a warm, sunny day in my T-Shirt, I mumbled to myself as I clutched the various envelopes and forms I had been given away with me. As I continued to mumble, there were a few drops of rain noticable. Once I returned to the car, my T-Shirt was soaked through and I placed the papier mache that had been in my hand on the passenger seat!