Many moons ago, i was a legal clerk, and one day I arrived at the office.
I saw the senior partner (Mr M), who was as white as a sheet.
His Mum had been in poor health, so I thought perhaps she had just died.
But, no.
We had about 10 personnel in the office from HMRC, who stuck to each member of our staff like glue, all day.
I looked after the archives, and had the boxes in the basement.
So, i was up and down the stairs all day, while Mr M was requesting this document, or bank statement, etc.
I had my own HMRC shadow, and she even followed me to the toilet!
They were investigating him for unpaid tax, and it was bloody awful.
His housekeeper called and i answered the phone, and she asked me to speak to him. He would always take a phone call, but because of what was going on, I said that 'he'll call you back'.
10 minutes later she called back, so i put her through.
It turns out that another half a dozen HMRC officials had turned up at his house and was searching it from top to bottom: including his wife's underwear drawer.
It was awful. They found no evidence that he hadn't paid his tax bills.
They had been tipped off by a disgruntled, and mentally unwell, former partner (Mr C).
Mr M kept everything, and Mr C would write increasingly crazy letters.
Even writing on the envelope:
Mr M (bastard)
So, naturally, Mr M was angry that they took the word of a man who was clearly in a mental health crisis.
Anyone who spoke to Mr C would see that.
Mr M took HMRC to court because of the way they had handled it.
He called it 'using a sledgehammer to crack a nut'.
I left the firm not long after, so i don't know what the outcome was.