Tax Break

John Fisher, international tax consultant

Archive for the tag “tax”

The Windsor Saga


One of the perennial challenges of the writers of successful soap operas is finding original ways to write actors, who have had enough, out of the script. They can’t all be sent off to Canada, and the public sometimes doesn’t like what it gets. When, broadcast on Christmas Day 2012,  Downton Abbey’s Matthew Crawley died in a car crash on the way back from visiting his wife and new-born son, the outrage was almost tangible. One nutter even tweeted: ‘Why oh why Lord are you testing me…let alone on the day your son was born?’.


The British Royal Family has, of course, been a real-life soap opera at least since the Queen let the cameras into Buckingham Palace a half century ago. Writing people out of the script is a lot more complicated than Downton Abbey. Tragically, they have had the car crash and the sex scandal(s), while one of their number (plus household) is about to head for Canada. Lacking the imagination of Downton creator Julian Fellowes, others just get sidelined or – like old underground trains – are retired from public service.

The latest ‘Rexit’, that of Prince Harry and his family, appears to be attracting attention, less because of the human element, and more because of the budget. That isn’t what writers want to see – it detracts from the fairy tale script, and places the whole event in the grubbiness of the real world.

The British press is full of that bombastic and pompously self-righteous term: ‘The British Taxpayer’. How are they going to live? How much is it going to cost ‘us’? While that last question may be appropriate for Leninists, Trotskyites, and Corbynistas, it is not the ticket for a country whose electorate just returned a Conservative government with an 80 seat majority.


The Queen is not a pauper surviving on handouts from the State. Monarchs across the centuries amassed huge fortunes from – inter alia – rape, pillage and murder that gave them direct or indirect control over the means of production and human capital. Nice people all. On assuming the throne in 1760, George III surrendered his income from the ‘Crown Estate’ (basically, his property) in favor of an annual payment from Parliament (the Civil List). The Crown Estate was effectively placed into trust for the State, and the Treasury received the income. That state of affairs lasted for over 250 years until, 7 years ago, the Civil List was replaced by the Sovereign Grant which set the payment to the monarch at 15% of the total net revenues of the Crown Estate (temporarily increased to 25%).  Add to this the Royal Family’s  private wealth from the Duchies of Lancaster and Cornwall, as well as the occasional  flutter on the horses, and the Queen is not short of a pound or two.

Thus, as the right to own private assets is still embodied in British law, and as the Sovereign Grant – as successor to the Civil List – is a contractual agreement to pay royalties at a fixed percentage  in perpetuity for the surrender of all control of the Crown Estate by George III, why is it anybody’s business how the wealthy Queen finances her grandson’s welfare? Were the monarchy to be dissolved today in anything other than a communist-style revolution, the royals would be entitled to the two duchies (as at present) and a financial settlement in respect of their rights to income from the Crown Estate. They wouldn’t be living on a council estate as depicted by Adrian Mole creator Sue Townsend in ‘The Queen and I’.

The British Taxpayer can’t even feel indignant over the income tax and capital gains tax position of the monarch anymore. While a king or queen cannot pay tax (it is, after all, HER MAJESTY’s Revenue and Customs), the Queen and Prince Charles have been paying voluntary amounts since 1993 that are supposedly designed to shadow the position of the rest of us.

There is one gaping exception. One of the subplots in Downton Abbey is the recurring issue of Death Duties, today known as Inheritance Tax. It serves as the reason great family after great family is forced to sell their stately home or significant parts of their estate. Under the Queen’s arrangement with her Revenue and Customs, everything she leaves to her successor is not liable to Inheritance Tax (as well as everything inherited from her mum). While it might be argued that the properties included in the Crown Estate (such as Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle) do not belong to her, Sandringham and Balmoral definitely do (her father even had to buy Balmoral off his abdicating brother), not to mention the assets held by the Duchies.


So, if the press wants to get on its soap box, lay off the Sussexes – that’s a family affair – and concentrate on the death taxes. Of course, were the position to change tomorrow, Her Majesty could transfer all her assets to Charles immediately, and would only have to live 7 years to avoid Inheritance Tax. At 100, she would be a year younger than her mother when she died. Long live the Queen!

It’s just not cricket

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He might still need more proof of residence than this

Last month’s news from India, that tax residency certificates would no longer be a must for  foreigners claiming treaty benefits, will come as a welcome relief to the finance departments of organizations doing business with that great country. Obtaining certificates of residence can be a pain in the neck, especially when they are needed quickly. When it comes to transparent partnerships, like accounting firms, the bureaucracy can be a nightmare.

Although at first sight this announcement may put India in a positive light, it is more a reflection of the relief to heads no longer banging against brick walls – the original requirement for certificates stemmed from a silly amendment to the law in 2012. There is so much that is daft about India’s approach to international taxation.

When I hear the words ‘India’ and ‘Tax’ juxtaposed, I invariably think of Kipling’s quote ‘Power without responsibility – the prerogative of the harlot throughout the ages.’

India – the largest democracy on Mother Earth – has, when it comes to international tax, a split personality. On the one hand,  its appellate tribunals and courts wax more lyrical than anybody else on tax  issues brought before them. In 2017 it was estimated that nearly a quarter of a million disputes were awaiting resolution. Every international tax practitioner knows that, when examining the case history of OECD treaty articles, it is rare for a bon mot from India not to pop off the page. On the other hand,  India maintains primitive imperialist designs on the tax that rightly belongs to others (I wonder what Gandhi would have said). Its Dividend Distribution Tax, declared a tax on the distributing company rather than a withholding tax on the recipient, has deftly (and, I believe, uniquely) sidestepped treaty withholding restrictions, while its technical services tax has long-armed income that should have nothing to do with India. Then there was that beautiful moment a few years back when they followed seller Hutchison and buyer Vodafone up the food chain, and rather than going for  a bite out of the indirect seller’s cake, tried improbably  to extract it from the indirect buyer’s mouth. That’s chutzpah.


It could have been worse. It is only an accident of history that they didn’t produce Austin Allegro doppelgangers

Perhaps, however, this recent loosening of the tax belt is not just a blip, but a symptom of something bigger. Since 2014 India has jumped a remarkable 65 places in the World Bank’s Ease of Doing Business rankings. Starting in 142nd place, it is today sandwiched at 77 between Uzbekistan (the butt of many of Borat’s jokes) and Oman. To show they were aware that the century had turned, they even stopped production of the Hindustan Ambassador in 2014 –  a copy of an early model of the Morris Oxford that the British replaced nearly sixty years previously. That’s progress.

Microsoft, IBM, Proctor and Gamble, Tesco, Wallmart, motor companies (thank heaven not British) – India is opening up for business. This has been accompanied by a massive reform in indirect taxation.

It is to be hoped that international direct taxation will be next. Wouldn’t it be nice if those legislators who draft the laws so suspectly could listen to those world-class judges charged with interpreting them so expertly? Or is that an encroachment upon the foundations of democracy?

Some like it hot


Will this save the planet…?

Political fossil Al Gore’s sequel to his Oscar winning environmental documentary ‘An Inconvenient Truth’ – ‘An Inconvenient Sequel’ – may have underwhelmed at the box office this month, but it provided a timely counterweight to President Donald Trump’s announcement some weeks earlier that the United States was pulling out of the Paris Agreement. Despite the protestations to the contrary of substantially every-government-that-is-not-America’s (as well as several of the States that enable the United States to be called the United States), without Federal US involvement all bets for preventing environmental Armageddon appear to be off.

Until recently, the Tax World’s contribution to the fight against this threat to our future generations had taken the form of airing the concepts of ‘Cap and Trade’ and ‘Carbon Taxes’ – the former involving the auction and trade of emission permits that seek to limit total pollution from certain gases, the latter a hit or miss, essentially regressive, tax on fossil fuels and suchlike.

Then, last month, things hotted up.

In his State of the Nation address, President Rodrigo Duterte of the Philippines told mining companies that ‘he would tax them to death’ if they did not clean up their act. Coming from anyone else, the statement might have been filed alongside Benjamin Franklin’s ‘nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes’, but Duterte has, for some time now, been proudly having drug pushers and other undesirables knocked off wholesale in extra-judicial killings. The message is clear – the president clearly reckons himself the biggest threat since Mohammed Ali throttled Joe Frazier in the Thrilla in Manila.

Indeed, Duterte also announced that, you-couldn’t-make-up-its-name, ‘Mighty Corp’ has agreed to pay the government a cool half a billion dollars to settle the mining giant’s alleged catalogue of criminal tax evasion offences. Simple when you have the method sussed.

And, to cap it all, any additional tax take from the mining sector is to be earmarked for local communities damaged by the mines, while processing of mineral resources is ‘requested’ to be performed in the Philippines before export, thus adding to employment.  Interesting, if worrying.


…or will this?

With all due respect to Mr Gore’s valiant efforts, if the environment is to get back on track, the mob that elected Trump doesn’t need a staid documentary – it needs exciting Alternative  Facts. So, perhaps the real existential question now is whether there is enough material for Quentin Tarantino to make a movie about taxing environmental terrorists. The climactic scene: an Internal Revenue Service agent, in sleek black suit and Ray-Ban shades, standing with his foot pressuring the windpipe of a prostrate business executive, two revolvers cocked and pointed at the entrepreneur’s trembling head, spits, ‘You’re going to clean up the river in this goddamn town, or we’re going to tax you to goddamn death’.

All’s fair in love and war. And, if Mr Tarantino is looking for a working title, how about: ‘Kill Fake Bills’?

Was the Battle of Europe lost on the playing fields of Eton?


What was that about Freedom of Movement in the EU?

‘History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.’ That aphorism, attributed to Mark Twain, has been much on my mind  lately.

Anybody wanting to get inside the minds of the wrong-headed majority that tragically voted the UK out of the EU (and probably lit a fuse to both those abbreviations) could do worse than read one of Dickens’s less known novels, ‘Barnaby Rudge’, about the Gordon riots against Catholic legislation.

Although the situation in 1780 became violent while last week’s referendum ensured peaceful mob rule,  the cynical manipulation and ignorance that led to the riots should have been a cautionary tale taught to every schoolboy and schoolgirl  in the last century and a half.

In the weeks, months and years ahead experts will assess the carnage to be irrevocably wrought on the UK and Europe, .

From a tax viewpoint, the immediate damage would appear to be to the UK Holding Company regime, as well as Finance Companies and IP ownership. This arises from the future removal of the parent/subsidiary directive, and interest and royalties directive. These two directives guarantee exemption from dividend withholding tax and withholding tax on interest and royalties, respectively,  when paid by the other 27 EU countries to the UK. Following the UK’s withdrawal from the EU, withholding tax will be applied according to treaty. This will mean that Holding Companies, exempt from tax on their dividends, and Finance Companies and Patent Box companies paying low tax, will be at a disadvantage compared with EU jurisdictions. As the UK does not withhold tax on dividends according to domestic law, the UK is currently very popular as a holding jurisdiction – a popularity that is likely to disappear very quickly (like, tomorrow morning).

Thanks to the OECD’s BEPS project, most other disadvantages of the Brexit will already have been swept up in wider international agreements, while there may be some small advantage in not being penalized by the EU for offering State Aid to companies.

It is well known that Boris Johnson and David Cameron studied at the same elite school. While the Duke of Wellington may have declared that the Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton, it would appear that  the Peace of Europe may have been lost on that same dot of England’s green and pleasant land.

It’s simply not cricket.

Pupils huddle during the Eton Wall Game at Eton college in Eton, near London

Meeting of a future Tory Cabinet





Who said tax is boring?

Still at it

Still at it

I was at dinner with friends late last year when one of the female guests announced that her husband was taking her skiing ‘for her special birthday’. My in-built accountant’s abacus went into immediate action calculating the lady’s possible age. This took into account the ages of her children, her looks, and the milestones of her life, as shared with anyone who had been willing to listen between the chopped liver and the soup. In a state of complete disbelief, I disingenuously told her how wonderful she looked for 50. ‘No, I am 55 actually,’ she replied, to my absolute lack of surprise. ‘What the hell is special about 55?’ I thought too loudly. ‘Aren’t you planning on making it to 60?’

I mention this incident because, for some months, I have been debating how to celebrate this, my 150th post. If truth be told, 150 is not a landmark – the Americans hardly bothered with the anniversary of the end of the Civil War and Lincoln’s assassination, earlier this month. But, at the rate I am writing these days, number 200 is looking dangerously  post-mortem.

I figured it was about time I revisited the tab which has  been up there at the top of the page from the start: ‘What is this blog?’ The first paragraph bemoaned my marginalization at social gatherings – anyone and everyone running a mile when they heard I was a tax geek.

Well, 150 – I hope vaguely entertaining – posts later, I found myself late the other night sitting around a friend’s kitchen counter with a senior tax official (with whom I have been on excellent terms for years), and a tax lawyer whose name I, mercifully, still do not know. The tax official (a woman) and I were sharing reminiscences of some of the quirks of the tax authority in our early days twenty years back. Among the memories, there was the period when, if the head of the main tax office – later Tax Commissioner – saw me in the corridor, he would stroke my arm and say soothing things to me because he had evidently been convinced by his deputy that I was a potential mass murderer (I had my own doubts about the deputy).

Some time into our conversation, the nice tax lawyer gentleman whose name I still don’t know decided to get in on the act. He asked us about our experience with tax levies on the employers of Sub-Saharan refugees. When we both said that we had no experience, he launched into a 40 minute monologue on the subject, pausing occasionally to ask our views, just to make sure we hadn’t dropped off. In fact, I don’t know if it was only 40 excrutiating minutes because, at 12.45am, my wife thankfully came over to whisk me home. He was still going strong, apparently oblivious as to whether he had an audience or not.

So, I can state categorically that there is nothing more boring than listening to someone talking tax. If you see me walking into a room, you will be perfectly within your emotional rights to look the other way. ‘Who said tax is boring? It was me, actually.’ Nothing has changed.

Dial M For Modi

'Mind the gap, lass'

‘Mind the gap, lass’

Bored out of my mind on a bus journey through the northeastern city of Sunderland around forty years ago, I involuntarily tuned into one of the working-class conversations going on around me. Not one word. Not one single syllable. They may as well have been talking Polish (which, nowadays, they probably would be). Forget that line about the English and Americans being two peoples separated by a common language – this was one people separated by the Watford Gap (an almost mythical motorway service station about half way up the country).

The fact is that, when it comes to understanding English speakers, some accents are more understandable than others. The Scots (from whom I hail) are notorious, but the loveable Indians are world champions in incomprehensibility.

They did extensive business with the subcontinent

They did extensive business with the subcontinent

Don’t believe me? Next time you are invited to participate in a telephone conference call with India, watch your colleagues. Guaranteed, there will be a finger permanently poised above the mute button, ready to activate it at the first drawn-breath to discuss what the participants think the other guy said. Then, as the call proceeds, your lead person’s head will gradually home in on the phone, until his ear is in communion with  the loudspeaker. It is another myth, that the closer you get to the speaker, the more you understand.

Of course, the irony is that India is the epicentre of Telephone Service Centres. Need help anywhere in the world? Call India, and walk away more confused than when you started.

Given the importance of the telephone to the Indian economy, it is perhaps not surprising that some of the biggest tax controversies in recent years have involved telecommunications. Less clear is why they have involved a single company.

Vodafone has been persistently persecuted by the Indian tax authorities over the last decade. It started when they bought an Indian group from Hutchinson at the ultimate holding company level, several countries removed from India. Although the tax burden, if any, should have fallen on Hutchinson, Vodafone was hit for not deducting tax at source. When the company successfully claimed in the Supreme Court that there was no legal basis for the tax authority’s claim, the Congress-run Government promptly changed the law with retroactive effect to 1961. At time of going to press, Vodafone and the Indian people were still staring each other down. Needless to say, this has done wonders for foreign investor confidence.

Meanwhile, the fairly new BJP Government of Narendra Modi has been making soothing comments about regulation and business. At the end of January the authorities announced that they would not appeal a decision in favour of, wait for it, Vodafone, concerning the taxation of a share issue. Vodafone’s Indian company, owned through Mauritius, had issued new shares to a Mauritius holding company for a premium that the tax authorities claimed to be ridiculously low. As a result they claimed that income had been created. The company argued that, even if the price was too low, this was a capital transaction in the shares (which, I suspect, would not be liable to tax under the relevant India/Mauritius treaty). The government has caved in, citing the need to provide certainty to foreign investors in tax matters. Hallelujah!

"What do you mean: 'Please send me an e-mail'?"

“What do you mean: ‘Please send me an e-mail’?”

Perhaps the next U-turn will be in respect of the Hutchinson  purchase. The previous government got its lines crossed and failed to understand the effect it was having on foreign investors. Narendra Modi has stated repeatedly that he wants to make India a draw for investment. I wonder if he knows Vodafone’s number?

Christmas Cheer

Charles-DickensThe spirit of Christmas Present materialized in the wake of the sensational success of  ‘A Christmas Carol’. Britain which, despite French whinging, was – in 1843 – the world’s superdooperpower, had been struggling with Christmas traditions and what-not for years. Dickens’s simple short story of a tyrannical, lonely employer mirrored against his put-upon employee (the latter having a loving, but tragic, family life) caught the nation’s mood. In a tale that, to borrow  from John Lennon, is more popular than the Nativity, the eponymous Scrooge eventually sees the light, and everyone – including the sick child that Dickens threw in for extra pathos – lives happily ever after. Amen.

The gifts didn't improve much over the years

The gifts didn’t improve much over the years

For me, a non-Christian, Christmas has long been defined by an event exactly 100 years ago today. The organized football match between the Allies and the Hun is probably apocryphal (nobody can agree on the score), but what is certain is that there was an informal truce on the Western Front for a number of hours on Christmas Day 1914. The Germans seem to have started it (as every good Englishman knows, they always start everything) by singing Stille Nacht (a passable translation of Silent Night). Before long, both sides were out of the trenches exchanging gifts of tobacco, black bread and buttons – and, just maybe, starting the Hundred Years War that has seen Jerry winning four World Cups to our one. (Fortunately, the World Wars went the other way.)

The truce over, the troops climbed back into their respective trenches and spent the next four years ensuring that at least 10 million of their number would never again sit around a Christmas tree exchanging gifts in the bosom of their families. Indeed, in December 1915, the order went out that any repeat of the events of a year earlier would result in a Court Martial and the Firing Squad, not necessarily in that order.

And THAT is Christmas. Once a year, mankind is enveloped in a vague haze that colours its eyesight and addles its brain. For a few short weeks, minds turn to gift-buying and peace and goodwill to all mankind. Come January 2nd, the miserable self-seeking world is back to normal  (from what I am told by Christian friends, it can start on Christmas afternoon when out-of-town guests – like three-day-old fish – start to stink). Someone who in mid- December would volunteer to save the world would, come  New Year, not give the drippings of his nose to a person dying of thirst.

Why do people insist on comparing me to these guys?

Why do people insist on comparing me to these guys?

This is the reason why, perhaps ironically, I believe in Taxation. While there are countless wonderful individuals and organizations out there who help the less fortunate, only the enlightened, collective self-interest of a people delegating the responsibility for its poor to its elected representatives, has the chance of ridding a country of the scourge of poverty. However enticing the Christmas message of peace and goodwill to all men sounds today (December 25th), Scrooge was right when he called it ‘Humbug!’

In any event, a heartfelt Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating today.

Viva, Barcelona!

Words didn't come easy to him

Words didn’t come easy to him

‘In the beginning was the word’ might have been the take on things in the Gospel according to John, but by my calculation, the oldest profession has never had much use for words (other than when haggling over price), and the second oldest profession (mine) has always relied on numbers; in any event, some years ago we merged.

The first international tax conference I ever attended was in Florida around twenty years ago. It was one of the highlights of my (now) long career. Closeted for three days in a glorious hotel with some of the best tax brains I have ever met, it was an orgy of diagrammatic flip-charts, 1929 Luxembourg Holding Companies, Belgian Coordination Centres, and ridiculously aggressive globe-embracing tax structures. Numbers and boxes. Heaven.

Of course there was a price. Tax advisors were universally viewed as geeks with psychopathic tendencies who should only be allowed to meet clients if accompanied by a responsible, audit practicing adult.

What a difference twenty years can make.

I am writing this post at 35,000 feet, on the way home from the latest conference in a very wet Barcelona. Nowadays, not only are we allowed to consort with clients, we invite them to join us, unaccompanied, at our get-togethers.

And what events they have become . It was a gradual process. Out went the numbers and flip-charts. In came the sharp spot-lights on a background of blue-haze; and words,words, words. I don’t think I saw a single number over the whole two and a half days except the occasional heart- warming statistic. It seems we have joined polite society.

Unfortunately, he couldn't make it this year

Unfortunately, he couldn’t make it this year

Our gurus talked in sound-bytes worthy of a British news anchor, about the rise of ‘compliance’. Compliance! When did the Detroit of the international tax world become sexy? Any color as long as it’s black! Boring! Not anymore. We listened to the Tax Emperor of one of the world’s very largest companies explain that his compensation algorithm no longer includes the effective tax rate, but instead is weighted towards his level of success in meeting all the group’s international reporting requirements. To put it more succinctly – promiscuity is a thing of the past. Today is all about Safe Tax.

An issue that had a lot of traction was BEPS (Base Erosion and Profit Shifting), about which I wrote a few weeks ago. The latest OECD update had been fortuitously issued a few days previously and this was a chance for sound-byting about the 15 constituent topics. After a panel of talking heads had compromised their integrity to impress the super-intelligent moderator (who is also a genuine ITV News Anchor),  it was left, implausibly, to the Chinese participant to remind everyone that BEPS was not going anywhere without the Americans. And the Americans are not going anywhere. Period. Good night, and good luck.

There was a spellbinding lecture on the mushrooming effect of Big (stored digital) Data on our lives, delivered by a remarkably competent stand-up comedian who triples up as a successful author and university professor. He, too – in what was starting to look like a conspiracy – incredibly avoided numbers, other than those that were so big the conference participants were unable to comprehend them ( a place in their heads previously occupied by lawyers’ fees).

Overall, it was a very successful few days – another strip of asphalt in the long road to acceptance by Society.

Happy New Year to anyone celebrating this week

Happy New Year to anyone celebrating this week

When I get home, I shall put my best suit back in mothballs and hang up my silk ties. Like Cinderella after the ball, it will be back to the daily drudge. No spotlights. No blue-haze. No News At Ten anchor. But lots and lots of numbers. Yippee.






Fish without an aye?

saltire1The only thing I am prepared to learn from this Scottish Referendum lark is that, if you give people an overdose of democracy, their brains come flying out of their ears.

By the time some of you read this, the whole farce may well be over – decided one way or the other: the only statistical certainty in the entire, tiresome process. Friday’s  papers will either be starting the countdown to secession, or painfully analyzing why the polls were so wrong (I predict a 60:40 No vote, and assuming I am right, am prepared to explain why the polls were so wrong, using a valuable analytical tool called ‘common sense’. If I am wrong, I will be analyzing why the polls got it so illogically right).

The big problem, it appears, is that, while the No campaigners have explained convincingly why, economically, independence is the stuff of fairy tales, the Yes campaign has hijacked half the ‘nation’ on a psychedelic ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ trip.

Worth going to war for

Worth going to war for

If, as has now been promised by Gordon Brown, former Prime Minister and fellow Jock, the Jocks are given devolved powers of taxation and  control over certain spending in the event of a No vote, any remaining hard-hatted economic arguments of that  Fish without an Aye (pronounced ‘I’) Alex Salmond, will evaporate as fast as an open bottle of whisky in a salmon smoker.

Of course, given half a chance, the average  Scotsman in the Glen is bound to take the opportunity to be seen on TV by his mum, declaiming on the future of his nation free of King Edward Longshanks. Scotsman’s mum, meanwhile, sits huddled next to a wood fire in her cottage in the Outer Hebrides which, thanks to successive Conservative and Labour governments, is attached to the National Electric Grid despite the doubtful value to anybody other than her. The lady is only watching the news because she is eagerly waiting for the fresh episode of  Downton Abbey – a series about a bunch of English toffs.

What I really fail to understand is, why the Scots (whoever they are, and however they are described for the purposes of this vote) get to decide alone on the future of the United Kingdom. It is not just about them. Scotland is not a British Colony or Mandate suing for self-determination. It is an integral part of the Three (Two-and-a-half?) Kingdoms and has to take responsibility for the effect on the others. While Ireland really was buggered by the democracy that was two wolves (England and Scotland) and a sheep (Ireland) discussing what to eat for lunch, Scotland has produced a disproportionate number of Prime Ministers, some of whom – notably James Ramsay Macdonald – have made a perfectly  good job of buggering up  the United Kingdom without resorting to independence.

This vote should have included the entire UK electorate. David Cameron must have been having a bad day when he agreed to the current format – one presumes he assumed the No vote would be a formality.

The American who could lead the Scots to vote 'Yes'

The American who could lead the Scots to vote ‘Yes’

And, even if it was right to restrict the vote to the Scots (which it was patently not), what about the Scottish diaspora? On a decision of this magnitude that will affect all future generations of Scots, why was the vote not offered to Scots and their descendants? As the son of a Scot, I should have a say in the long-term future of the country I have visited once in my lifetime. In fact, I feel passionately about Scotland. If  I were interviewed by the BBC, why would I go for the boring ‘No, I like it like it is’ (that I actually believe in), when I could give an emotional speech about the glory-days of Braveheart that might get me onto the evening News? It wouldn’t have to affect how I actually voted in the secret ballot. But let’s wait and see if the polls were right.

The Good Old Days?

These two would have sorted out Islamic State

These two would have sorted out Islamic State

By the time you get to my age (I, just about, remember what I was doing when I heard JFK had been shot), there are not many childhood ambitions you have either not fulfilled or not given up on. I made it to the Volvo, but not President of the United States (an early disappointment reading a DC Comic – if being born on Krypton ruined it for Superman, Stoke Newington wasn’t going to do much for my chances).

Well, last Saturday night I finally fulfilled an ambition that first entered my head one Spring day in 1970. I remember walking into the school library, the most junior of juniors, and asking the duty prefect to order a copy of John Galsworthy’s “The Forsyte Saga”.  I had been gobsmacked  by the 26 hour BBC adaptation that had been showing in 1968/69 and I thought I would have a go at the original. Either because the prefect knew that the book was about something resembling incest (inbreeding), or because he was an illiterate moron,  instead of encouraging my literary pretensions, he threatened me with detention. Illiterate moron. Definitely.

Last Saturday night, having logged out from normal life  for four complete Saturdays in a row, I finally finished the trilogy that is the Forsyte Saga. It did not disappoint.

It possesses  one of those story lines that would not disgrace ‘The Bold and the Beautiful’ (which I saw for the first time on Friday – somebody told me a number of the characters were thinking of taking up acting; I hope not). I will try a short synopsis (if you are under 18, despite the word ‘incest’, this is a family  site, so I suggest you clear off). Names are a bit of a bind: there is Jolyon and Jo and Jolly and Jon – not to mention, June. So I shall use letters.

Spot the one with two heads

Spot the one with two heads

Back in the 1880s, Mr A and Mr B are first cousins who don’t like each other very much. Mr A marries first but later runs off and marries his daughter’s governess, abandoning his daughter (A minor)  to her mother and his father (Mr Old A – the wives’ names are not important). Mr B marries Mrs  B (her name is very, very important) but she cannot stick him. Mrs B steals A minor’s fiance, who proceeds to top himself . Mrs B walks out on Mr B. Mrs B falls in love with widower Mr A, and Mr B names them both in a divorce suit. Mr A marries Mrs B, while Mr B marries a French woman who is not important. Mr A and Mrs B have a son (AB minor), while Mr B has a daughter (B minor). AB minor and B minor fall in love and want to get married. This cheeses off just about everybody. Just to add to the fun, Mr A has two children from the governess, one of whom dies in the Boer War, while the other marries Mr B’s nephew (this is a daughter – which would have been stating the  obvious in the 19th century), her second cousin. She is the only really sensible one in the whole book, deciding not to have children because – thanks to the family connection – they might be born with two heads.

There is, however, something that was, to the best of my juvenile memory, completely missing from the BBC series. The trilogy is about unabashed capitalism – Soames Forsyte (Mr B), the books’ main protagonist, along with almost all the Forsytes, is obsessed with property and the individual’s right to own as much of it, in all its forms,  as possible. That fits well with late Victorian England, but there is a great leap to the last book from 1901 to 1920, which Nobel Laureate Galsworthy was writing in real-time (published 1921).

This was immediately after the Great War, when the aristocracy and middle classes were living in real fear of what might happen to the country. Income Tax had already been hiked before and during the War. But, while Soames and various Forsytes bewail the inroads the income tax and super-tax are making into their fortunes, they live with a far greater fear which, given the timing of the book, is almost palpable. Three years earlier, King George’s doppelgänger cousin, together with his family,  had been murdered by the Bolsheviks. In Britain, with universal suffrage (that is ‘the vote’ for any under-18s who did not heed my advice above), the Labour Party was rising rapidly and there was a real concern of either outright revolution or wanton nationalization.  As it turned out Labour foamed and fizzled, it requiring another World War to deliver them a sustainable parliamentary majority. Meanwhile, ignorant of what the future held, Soames (and Galsworthy) hid their Top Hats and flashy cars in the hope of not being noticed.

Spot the one with a brain

Spot the one with a brain

A hundred years on, and it is interesting to note that the Social Protests as well as the writings of the likes of that Frenchman Thomas Piketty have not led the nouveau-riche to hide their  wealth. Quite the opposite – they appear to flaunt it.  It will be interesting to see how this one pans out. Whatever happens, I will not be around for the BBC series in 2068 (although, I imagine ‘The Bold and The Beautiful’ will still be going strong).



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