Danny interviewed me for a job sometime in 1990 and foolishly offered it to me. I gratefully accepted the appointment (or variants of it, in various locations around the country) and, in fact, it turned out to be my last gig, work-wise (it lasted nearly 20 years, though). As it happened, we didn’t end up working together for that long, as Danny himself left that particular organisation and went to work in Ireland. He came back some years later and we ended up once again being colleagues for a few years (until I retired in 2009, followed a short while later by Danny himself). We now meet for lunch a couple of times a year to discuss various topics including tax legislation, pensions developments and the origins of the universe (as Danny often observes - “These are exciting times”). I must say, our lunches are invariably most enjoyable. However, without casting any aspersions whatsoever on the nature of these rendezvous, I have to say that they are as boozy as any I have ever had. Without hesitation, I am happy to accept full responsibility for this state of affairs. However, I have thought deeply as to why these meetings become so inevitably subsumed into a Bacchanalian haze and I have concluded that this is, I believe, down to our mutual politeness. For my part, I tend to ALWAYS suggest having “another”, even when common sense tells me I have had enough and Danny, bless him, out of sheer good manners, can never bring himself to decline such an offer, even when his own good sense and rudimentary knowledge of human physiology is telling him “enough is enough!” Notwithstanding this conundrum of etiquette, it is a dynamic which I am more than happy to continue indulging in (at least until we have completely exhausted all there is to say on tax, pensions or the origin of the Universe, noting that the subject of tax does seem a veritable treasure trove, or shall we say, an infinite well of inexhaustible debating material equal to the very Cosmos itself).