Winding my way up the world from Western Australia last week, the doors of my mind opened on a vision of Elisha Otis . Elisha Who? Who Otis? Who Who? Odds on, anyone reading this blog has seen the name at least once in the past 24 hours. At the New York World's Fair in…
No flies on them, mate
Filling in the immigration card at the start of the descent into Melbourne International Airport earlier this week, I could not help but chuckle as I checked the "No" box against the question "Do you have any criminal convictions?" I was unavoidably reminded of that hackneyed joke, attributed to the late Tony Hancock and especially popular…
“Action!”
Eureka! A mere week shy of a century since Charlie Chaplin first stumbled onto the Silver Screen, the world's Tax Supremos finally discovered the wonders of Moving Pictures. Watching the OECD Centre for Tax Policy and Administration's first webcast on Base Erosion and Profit Shifting (BEPS) on January 23rd, there were times when I wished the new…
Near-Death Of A Salesman
I am prejudiced against salesmen. Shop salesmen. Company salesmen. Door-to-door salesmen. You name 'em, I'm prejudiced against 'em. I am not proud of the fact and sincerely apologise to any salesman who, attracted by the pictures or vulgar colours, has found his way inadvertently to this blog only to be insulted for his troubles. My feelings…
A dope makes a hash of things
Depressingly, whenever I mention British Humour (sic) to an American I receive the stock response: "Benny Hill!" I used to fight back, arguing that Hill's humour was cheap smut eventually only permitted for export (to America), while true British Humour was a cerebral affair of the utmost sophistication. Balderdash! I was kidding myself. Benny Hill was…
Saving Income Tax
Early in my tax career, in my role as stenographer, porter and punkawallah to the great and the good, I was instructed to join one of the senior partners at a meeting with Roy E. Disney's right-hand man. The conversation was going well (I had a walk-on part taking notes and fluttering my eyelashes, or whatever pseudo secretaries were supposed…
Don’t Mention The War
1/1/14. Typing the date, I am paralysed with fear as I imagine myself, pencil in fingerless-gloved hand, writing home from a rat-infested trench in the fields of Northern France (rats are one thing - but France?). Even the quality press has added to my waking nightmare. Both the New York Times and The Economist got in…
Socking it to Santa
Experience suggests that my telephone conversation with some extremely pleasant folk from Colorado last Thursday will prove one of my last international work calls before Christmas. Although I have never visited Denver or its environs, I am assured that their courtesy was typical of that, and other, Western States. My research suggests, however, that if you ever…
Charge your glasses
The highlight of my year as a young teenager was undoubtedly Summer Camp. It was not really a camp at all. Public (that means private) schools bearing varying degrees of similarity to Hogwarts were hired for a fortnight and staffed by post-pubescent volunteer counselors, hand-picked by the ever-so-more-mature officers of our local youth club. With average pedagogic training approaching…
Stuck Behind Chocolate Bars
Predictably, perhaps, Belgium does not feature prominently in Patricia Schulz's "1,000 Places To See Before You Die". Given my disdain for "Harry, take a photograph" tourism, it was serendipitous that the only foreign place I was taken to see in the ten years after I entered this life was Belgium. And I loved it. My father spent the…
Tax Break 