Tax Doesn’t Have to be taxing. Or Expensive

STRUAN METCALFE – MSP for Aberdeenshire North and Surrounding Nether Regions

Unfortunately, I find myself one again having to apologise unreservedly for “unhelpful” comments I made on Twitter last night regarding the immoral practice of tax avoidance.  I fear my tweet has been blown out of all proportion and a silly joke I made, as I whizzed through my second bottle of Château Laffite, has gone viral:

“Jimmy Carr’s in trouble for tax planning and Super Dave says he’s morally repugnant. Hope Dave doesn’t find out about my Dutch EBT Scheme! LOL”.

Clearly I do not have a Dutch EBT scheme (into which I pay my salary only for the trust to loan the money back to me, thus avoiding the payment of income tax and national insurance on the “earnings”). No, No, No!  I have a Cayman Islands Offshore Family Trust which lends my salary back to my 9 year old son on a tax free basis so that he can buy the latest Ben 10 toy, afford those expensive rugger boots Gordonstoun insists he wears, and pay the mortgage on our country pile in Glen Alva.  It’s all perfectly legit.

So, for the avoidance of doubt (not tax!), I say “Yes”, tax evasion is morally repugnant.  Because it’s illegal.

“Yes”, in this current climate – whilst MP’s tax records do not currently have to be disclosed to the public! – tax avoidance is wrong.  Ish.

And “Yes”, exploiting a tax loop-hole because you’ve paid a super-dooper smart London-based tax lawyer is nothing short of criminal. Have you seen their charge out rates!?

SHELLEY SHINGLES – showbiz correspondent and Miss Fetteresso 1983

This week my Jimmy Choos have been a blur as I’ve been rushed round visiting Edinburgh, Dundee and Inverness (phew!) as I heard it was a rare chance to see the Dalai Lama!  I’ve been a big fan since a holiday in Peru with all my showbiz pals, when one ate Chesney Hawkes’ hat!  Kim Wilde asked him, “Was that your one and only!?” (ROTFL!)

But I couldn’t find any Lamas there at all, just a little man in some red curtains!? (Sad face).  I’ve not been so disappointed I went to the Grassic Gibbon Centre and they refused to show me any monkeys!

 ‘Cava’ Kenny Cordiner – the football pundit who kicks back!

This week was a well busy time to be a respected Dons legend.  I done my first bit on the wireless for the Euros last Tuesday, then Stewartie Milne gave Willie Miller his jotters and then sadly another Dons legend, Teddy Scott, passed away.

The lovely Melody looked out my best suit so I looked the part for going on the wireless but I was still a bag of nerves.  I was the punnet on the Ireland v Italy game, probably because I know a lot about playing the Italians – La Lombarda won the over 50s 5-asides against us last month.  The commentator says, “Shame Greece weren’t drawn with Italy, Spain and Ireland, then it would be the ‘Group of Debt!’”  I jumped in and says he meant the ‘Group of Death.’  Lucky I was there!

England done well to qualify, even though they was more in the ‘Group of Serious Illness’.  Mind you, that was definitely a goal what John Terry cleared off the line against Ukraine.  All the other punnets is talking about cameras on the goal line but I don’t know.  It’s not as if people will still be talking about a ball maybe crossing the line 50 years later.

I always tried not to let boardroom shenannygoats affect me when I was a player but my mole down at Pittodrie says you could cut the air with a fork since Willie got the push.  But there’s no room for sentient in football.  The boys just have to turn their face to the wall and move forwards.  Stewartie got shot of most of the board last week.  He says he needs to freshen things up.  I reckon he wasn’t watching the players last season if he thinks the board’s what needs to go.  You have to feel for Willie.  The greatest player ever to pull on the captain’s hairband but in his management rolos he remained something of an enema.  Still, he’s a talented guy.  He won’t stick and, with his track record in business, there could even be a job going at Rangers.

I felt very sorrow when I heard about Teddy Scott passing away.  Teddy and me had a lot in common.  Despite both being legends for the Dons, we only played one game for the first team.  We were both hugely popular with the other players and the fans, and we were both modest and humble.  There is a famous story about when Teddy packed the wrong socks for an away game and Fergie going to sack him.  Then Gordon Strachan says “You’ll need to hire 10 men to replace him” and Fergie demented.  The boss didn’t always have a softer side though.  I once turned up for a reserve game without my shorts and he fined me 2 weeks wages and made me play in my pants!

God bless, Teddy.  There’s a pie and Bovril waiting for you in the great dugout in the sky.

I love you, you’re perfect, now keep the change

J. FERGUS LAMONT, arts critic and author of “Pigs, Sprees and the Dramaturgical Muse  – A Post-Brechtian Analysis of the Bothy Ballad”, attended the Degree Show at Gray’s School of Art.

This week saw your humble correspondent precipitously evacuated from his comfort zone within the performing arts and transported to the realm of the visual.  Gray’s School of Art, a Garthdee-located salon fit to match the finest in Paris, has this year organized a showing of its graduands’ work.  The show opened to the masses on Saturday, although I was fortunate enough, 3 days earlier, to secure a private viewing.  I hadn’t been invited and was apparently not expected, as I could not initially enter the premises.  Thankfully, a fellow critic came to my aid.  He had obtained a set of keys – doubtless he had called ahead – that permitted ingress.  A taciturn man dressed in a humble workman’s blue (no doubt a reminder that, however lofty our insights, we critics remain the servants of the people) he did not say for whom he writes, though his name badge – Jan Itor – suggests Dutch ancestry.

Once inside the space, I was treated to a minimalist’s nirvana: each wall a bare, brilliant white.  Amidst the void, almost lost in the brightness, a solitary, modern installation drew one closer with its stark red outline.  Further inspection revealed an invitation at once whimsical and profound: “In case of emergency, break glass”.  The artist‘s work was so utterly compelling that your correspondent felt that destiny required him to deal the suggested blow.  No sooner had the glass fissured than one was literally immersed in the artist’s ruse – an interactive multimedia experience!  Water gushed forth in a shocking, life-affirming deluge from a phalanx of previously unnoticed nozzles in the ceiling!  Crazed with joy, I tipped back my head, ripped open my shirt and bellowed my appreciation! Before long, Mr Itor was bellowing too.

I wept.

KEVIN CASH – Wedding special: money-saving expert and king of the grips offers some tips on budgeting for the big day.

I love a wedding, me – fa dizna?  (Weel, my pal big Alan, obviously, efter Sandra’s faither threatened him wi a double-barreled lead transfusion if he didna get her doon that aisle quick-smart.  Nae fine.)  But weddings is expensive an expensive business, wi even the simplest een likely to set you back a fair whack.  Or so you thought!  Follow my simple money saving tips and not only will you keep costs doon, you could even turn over a handsome profit.  Noo that’s fit I call a special day!

Mind, major breakdowns of civil order apart, this is the greatest chance you will get to get a free houseful of electrical goods.  Da faff aboot wi’ ony “the greatest gift will be your presence on the day” crap.  Be mercenary.  Hae a list, and pit nothing less than £50 on it.  Tell yer pals that whoever gies maist gets to dunce wi the drunkest bridesmaid, and that whoever gies least will be sat next to your Uncle Eddie, fa his been instructed to tell them in graphic detail about his maist recent operation.

The dress can also be a costly item.  Silk is crazy expensive, and it’s made fae stuff that comes oot o beasties!  Gads min!  White polycotton is available for peanuts and shimmers awa bonny fan smeared wi Vaseline.  Pit the mailbag-sewing skills of ony o yer jailbird friends to good use by hiring them as your dressmaker.  And mind, a bonny veil can be made fae the net curtain in your doonstairs cludgie.  Fan ye draw it back and see the tears in her eyes, ye’ll ken ye did the right thing.

Fan it comes to gentleman’s attire, it his to be the kilt.  But that’s £60 to hire.  (That means you hiv to gie it back efterwards, unless Mick the Pill set you up wi a false identity beforehand.)  So mak yer ain.  Tartan swatches can be borrowed fae ony kiltshop.  Stitch twa hunner thegither to mak yer ain patchwork kilt.  Stapling a rubber band to a piece of roadkill gies you a magic sporran.

Obviously, ye hiv to hae the big day somewye.  And obviously, it his to be special.  Hotels see you coming though, don’t they?  And castles is worse!  Hire charges can be avoided, though by staking oot the big mansions on the North Deeside Road, and using a millionaire’s gairden as your venue fan he’s away on his holidays.  But if you absolutely must use a hotel, use yer noggin and a’.  Een o my pals got taen for £10 a head for stovies!  That’s a lot of wedge for tatties, ingin and gravy.  My pal Billy The Fish runs a fry van.  He will happily park on the public road nearest to your venue and dae you twa hunner cones o chips for a pound a pop.

Finally, photies.  I ken you’ll wint a permanent record o the day but this cost can be avoided altogether by startin a rumour that you are a drug dealer getting merried under an alias.  This will guarantee the attendance of a large number of police surveillance photographers.  Memories of the indignity of undergoing a full body search in front of your guests will fade.  The high-quality reportage-style photographs will last a lifetime.

Until next time – keep smiling, and keep saving!