Coca Cola decides to pay their Olympic taxes

Coca Cola takes a lead from McDonald's.

Internet petitions have, for once, proved effective, as Olympic sponsor Coca Cola have joined McDonald's in announcing they will not be partaking in their allowed tax break during the Games. Since HMRC pronounced Stratford the latest haven in tax dodging, the internet has exploded with complaints that corporations sponsoring London 2012 such as Lloyds TSB, Visa and Adidas should not partake in the tax exemption they are offered. The legislation not only forgives sponsors from paying tax on the fortunes they will earn during the Games, but also any foreign nationals working in the UK for the purpose; this includes journalists, judges and the athletes themselves. While the amounts the individuals will rake in from three weeks of income and UK corporation tax concessions may not be huge, it will cost the UK tens of millions of pounds to lose, as estimated by Richard Murphy from the Tax Justice Network.

The petition was started on the 38 Degrees website and has now over 160 000 signatures. On Wednesday McDonald's bowed to furious online petitioners, saying that the revenue from the games would only make up 0.1 per cent of annual sales in the UK. Hours later, Coca Cola also conceded and made a statement on their website to pay their fair share of tax during the Games. Perhaps this is the first of many escape routes from the somewhat Orwellian laws of copyright the Olympics have influenced in this country. I refer to the legislation that vendors within 100 metres of Olympic venues are forbidden from violating sponsorship agreements, by which I mean selling chips. Except in the joyful loophole that fish with chips is allowed, selling chips alone which are not McDonald's branded will result in a hefty fine. Likewise with soft drinks other than Coca Cola and beer other than Heineken. Considering this it is less surprising that McDonald's and Coca Cola don't mind paying their taxes as it will hardly compromise the billions of pounds they will be earning. However, the decision to ignore the tax exemption still shows the corporations in a good light, and until the other sponsors back down the petition at 38 Degrees will continue to go strong to break them, or die in the attempt.

To the taxpayer the decision to pay the usual requirement of taxes seems only fair; the UK has already been proven to be riddled with tax evaders, with the Barclays scandal still hanging stagnant in the air along with dozens of other bankers' tax avoidance accusations. However, tax exemption is far from unknown in the Olympic world; in fact, such legislations have long since been endemic to the Games for years. Usain Bolt is just one of the big-name athletes who has pushed tax exemption rules to be adopted by hosting countries. So is tax just seen as something optional to be dropped when it comes to big publicity situations? No, it's worse than that; “tax” has become a poisonous word that evokes feelings of horror and misery the moment it's spat off the tongue. In a world where dropping tax is seen as a reward (though why big names should be rewarded for having logos on the side of the stadium needs further explanation) and paying tax is a punishment, how can we expect so much of large corporations? We seem to be forgetting the purpose of tax: to help people who can't help themselves, and provide the public with those mildly useful luxuries we occasionally need, such as hospitals and schools. Sometimes our tax isn't used very wisely by the government, no. But shockingly enough, it is a democracy that we live in, and we can use our power to vote or to sign petitions online towards the hope that whoever is in charge will make a loose majority of decent choices. Organisations like the Olympics promote the idea that only the losers pay tax and the winners, be they competing athletes or corporations that get brownie points for monopolising industries, are lucky enough to get out of helping their country function. As long as we keep this mentality it's inevitable that McDonald's and Coca Cola deciding to pay tax will be something of a shock to us. Thankfully, the fact that they have done so can contribute to a new mentality. It might even promote the aim to do good over earn money. One can only hope.

Olympic sponsor Coca Cola presents the torch relay in Glasgow. Photograph: Getty Images
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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war