Published Messenger Newspapers, Adelaide, January 21, 2004
ONCE A DOBBER, ALWAYS A DOBBER
TELLING tales seems to come naturally and early to females - "Oow-ah, I'm tellin' mum on youse!" - which possibly explains why males regard dobbing with such suspicion. Anyone with a younger sister would know what I mean. I had two of them, and it took pathetically small levels of teasing and hair pulling for me to be dobbed in by them. I swear they worked in tandem to set me up. But there's dobbing and then there's dobbing, and I gave a little hip-hooray recently to read the Australian Tax Office had received 51,000 anonymous tipoffs about tax cheats last year. The gender of the dobbers was not given so we do not know how many were ex-wives. A lot, I expect, as well as disgruntled secretaries. Many of the tipoffs involved non-payment of the GST. What a surprise. Wasn't the GST supposed to end the black economy? Yeah right - another big, black Canberra lie. I pay whatever I have to PAYE - being a wage slave provides not much choice - in the expectation that everyone else is also sharing the tax burden for our common good. Know what really makes my blood boil? Governments that announce funding for roads or schools as if they were Santa Claus. Sorry - It's. Our. Money. We pay taxes so governments can provide the things society requires, not as a special favour. Anyway, I encourage you to dob as much as you like, and here is the ATO's tax evasion hotline: 1800060062. Whatever you do, don’t mention my name. Here's something else to cheer about: 91 hoon drivers were fined or cautioned by Sturt Police in December after being dobbed in by the public for doing burnouts or "drifting" along a road from side to side, laying rubber. Good work, everyone. Not that I have ever dobbed in an idiot driver although, God only knows, I could do it 20 times a day. Only yesterday, on Port Rd heading to the city, I was cut off by an early model Falcon swerving at high speed across the lanes without indicating, blowing smoke out the exhaust. The driver, a woman, was not wearing a seatbelt and neither were the two girls in the back, nor the fox terrier on the back shelf finding it hard not to topple over. She ran a red light at Kilkenny Rd and, from the centre lane, suddenly turned left, tyres squealing, into Rosetta St, West Croydon. At last, I felt angry enough to make my first traffic dob. The problem was the police required evidence and I did not get the number plate. Unlike the ATO, which will sic you on the word of an anonymous dobber, the police require a written statement and possibly a court appearance if the fine is disputed. The process seems too much trouble, now that I have calmed down. I am not sure how many other people could be bothered, either, except for those admirable dobbers in the Sturt Police Local Service Area. My ultimate wish is to publish in Messenger newspapers a shame file of the number plates of every car caught running a red light. Call me a dobber but, hey, smile, you're on red light camera.
