Open you wallet, and say after me: "Help yourself"

Do you know what I like about the Inland Revenue (American friends, think IRS)? That's right, there is nothing I like about the Inland Revenue.
Let me be clear. I have no problem about paying my taxes, whatever they may later be spent on. I have a simple philosophy, namely, that if Her Majesty needs a few bobs of my money, She is welcome to them, bless Her.
No, what I don't like about the Inland Revenue is their requirement that I should be perfect, without blemish or failing. Bugger! In no other sphere of our lives are we expected to be 100% accurate, but the IR, if you make even the smallest mistake or miscalculation, will distrain your property, seize your assets, and, for all I know, order in a plague of locusts and a murrain on your cattle.
As you may have gathered, I am putting together that glorious annual work of fiction known as My Tax Return. I promise you, I don't cheat, I don't try to come the old soldier with the myrmidons of the Tax Office.
But I know that I am fallible, which is why, in the midst and maelstrom of this exercise, I wonder seriously if I should jack it all in and just take the money and run.