Hanneke Sanou wonders what a tax inspector and a prostitute will talk about, when he pays a visit to check up on her earnings.

A bespectacled gentleman carrying a briefcase is peering uneasily into the illuminated window of a ‘hardworking freelance’ in Amsterdam’s red light district.
Tax inspector, knocking on window: Is anyone there?
Hardworking Freelance, calling out from the back: Yes dear, hold your horses, I’ll be right with you. (Mutters: men! Can’t wait for five minutes)
Tax inspector: No, I’m from the inland revenue, I need to talk to you about your earnings.
Hardworking Freelance: Oh. Come in then.
Tax inspector walks in as furtive looking man walks out.
Hardworking Freelance: Bye, come again..yes, what can I do for you?
Tax inspector: We at the tax office have decided that you are a hardworking freelance and we will therefore fleece you, I mean tax you accordingly. You seem to be hardworking..how much eh, how many eh..
Hardworking Freelance: tricks a day? Not as many as before. It’s the crisis. All they want to do is talk about their troubles. The boss is trying to get rid of me, my colleagues are stabbing me in the back, it’s endless. Two hour sessions is the norm these days, ask the other girls. I have had to do a psychology course. Is that deductable?
Tax inspector: I suppose it is..
Hardworking Freelance: I’d say I’m saving the health service a couple of thousands in therapy costs on a yearly basis, wouldn’t you think?
Tax inpector: Eh..
Hardworking Freelance: And don’t forget loss of earnings. That would come to..(whips out pocket calculator)
Tax inspector, hastily: We will have to come back to you about this. But the department is reorganizing and one of my colleagues may be assigned to your case. Johnson, probably, that crawler. He’s always trying to elbow me out, it’s enough to drive you crazy..
Hardworking Freelance, checking her watch surreptitiously: Tell me all about it love.