Many years ago, the British humor magazine Punch ran one-sentence reviews of plays then current in London’s West End. One particularly long-lived farce entitled “No Sex Please, We’re British” drew from Punch’s sententious critic the headline of this blogpost.

Now there are few sagas running at 400 Second Street, NW, that would draw so piteous a cry from such as me. But this five-barreled special is indeed a rara avis.

Here’s John E. Rogers and Frances L. Rogers, et al., 2018 T. C. Memo. 83, filed 4/17/18.

I have blogged the Rogers’s story extensively, but today Judge Goeke’s 134-page magnum opus has outdone me.

Suffice it to say that unreported income, sham transactions, undocumented loans, Section 274 documentation, home office, charitable gifts of land in exchange for municipal beneficence, and the innocent spouse who knew too much (with MBA, JD and CPA credentials), all play a part, but at the end of the day, it’s all been said before.

And yet, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers escape both the late-filing addition and the 75% fraud chop.

But wait, there’s more: the 20% accuracy or negligence chops are reserved for another day. So it seems there are Graev matters yet to come.