Among the moral influences on my childhood, and that of my fellow English countrykids, was Hilaire Belloc’s ‘Cautionary Tales for Children’. Entering the Land of Nod at night to the story of Jim who ran away from his nurse and was eaten by a lion, or Matilda who said lies and was burnt to death, none of us was likely to deliver on any 6-year-old’s lurking urge to commit mass murder or rob a bank. Our parents knew how to keep us on the straight and narrow – pure, unadulterated fear.

In a long(ish) career, I have always tried to avoid instilling fear in clients. Clear explanations, and the earning of trust, are usually enough to encourage action. However, there is one area of taxation  in Israel that sometimes demands a little more persuasion when it comes to foreigners, both corporate and individual, setting up businesses here –  professional bookkeeping. And from this month we have a Cautionary Tale all of our own, thanks to a judge in the Tel Aviv District Court.

The judgement reads like a funny children’s book:

One fine day (that is approximately how the judgement starts) a woman walked into the local fishmonger operated by a Mr Katzav (Google translate: Mr Butcher). It seems they had an argument about the price (he wanted 108 shekels and she was only willing to pay 103 shekels). She ultimately insisted on paying him in notes and coins of small denominations, and stormed out of the shop. Waiting in the street were two comically ill-prepared tax inspectors who were there on a tip-off. They converged on the woman, in sight  – through the window – of a clueless Mr Butcher, and managed with difficulty to extract from her the details of her purchase. Thanks to nobody keeping proper track of what happened next (maybe no fewer than 3 inspectors are needed for that), there was some dispute as to whether the inspectors entered the shop 2 minutes or 10 minutes after the customer left. There was also some confusion as to whether Mr Butcher was on the telephone when they came in, and whether Mr Butcher decided to ring up the purchase (the cash was already in the till) just before or just after the inspectors identified themselves.

The bottom line was that none of the details really mattered (and the tax inspectors must have thanked their lucky stars for that). Once the judge had cleverly concluded that there was no way the officials could have been in the shop confronting Mr Butcher within anything close to 2 minutes – the mere fact that he was late in ringing up the purchase was enough to sink him.

Israeli bookkeeping regulations, based on statute and relying on case law, require any amount received to be registered ‘close to undertaking the transaction’. Motive is not relevant – the regulation is not designed just for tax evaders; it is also designed to prevent people honestly forgetting. So, ‘close to undertaking the transaction’ broadly means ‘immediately’ ie ‘right now’. (On the other hand, had Mr Butcher been able to show that it was a genuine mistake – wink, wink –  he would have probably been given a second chance, on condition nothing went wrong within the next 12 months.)

In the event, Mr Butcher’s accounting records were declared unfit for that year and, presumably,  the previous one. To be clear, that is a smelly state of affairs – the tax authorities can assume higher income than reported, and fines may be imposed.

While the non-registering of income is the most critical offense, there are a myriad bookkeeping rules for differing areas of business, right down to the specific layout of tax invoices. If practice is materially out of sync with the regulations, the same result can occur as with Mr Butcher. (Even the ‘second chance’ is scary as a sneaky follow-up audit could be expected during the probation period).

The takeaway should be that, anybody running even a one-man business needs to be sure that all details of the complex bookkeeping regulations are adhered to. That will, more often than not,  mean using the services of a professional bookkeeper.

The first corporate liquidation in which I was involved, some 35 years ago, was of a Hull (a coastal town in Northern England) based fishery. They sent the records down to London. When we opened the boxes, the books stank in more ways than one.