Where the tax burden falls

Where does the tax burden fall, and why do loopholes help the rich?

The TPA's Matthew Sinclair has produced an interesting graph from HMRC's data on the share of income, which charts clearly what it means to have a progressive taxation system (click for big, and note that the top four categories are equal in size to one of the other four; the top 25 per cent has been split up to better show the progressive nature of the system):

Mulling over Osborne's tycoon tax, Sinclair provides an example of a tax "loophole" which he thinks is anything but – loss relief:

Suppose you make a £15 million loss one year, then enjoy a £15 million income the next year. How much have you made overall? £0. If you get full loss relief then you will be taxed on that basis and pay nothing, as you have no income to pay from. If your loss relief is capped at 25 per cent of your income, as the Government seems to be proposing, then you presumably have to pay tax on over £10 million. From an income of £0. Good luck.

It is difficult to argue with the ideal of loss relief; people shouldn't be penalised by being taxed exorbitantly on multiple years' income just because they happen to receive the actual payment in one lump sum. But the existence of loss relief is also a wonderful example of a tax system built with one set of rules for the rich, and another set for everyone else.

Suppose a different pattern of income: You are a novelist working for £10,000 a year, barely supporting yourself while you write on the evenings and weekends. (For simplicity's sake, lets set this in 2015 when the 10k tax threshold is in effect). After five years, your book takes off, and you earn a quarter of a million in a year. Not only are you paying income tax for the first time in your life, you are straight in at the top rate.

In this situation, can you claim tax relief? Of course not. You pay your tax for the year your income comes in, and if you took a hit in earlier years, that's something you have to suck up. Yet if that quarter of a million had been spread out over the five years before, you would have paid at least £50,000 less in tax.

It's easy to see why this isn't the case. It would be hell to administer, and would basically end up with everyone paying tax on their average lifetime earnings. Yet this awkwardness results in a tax system which allows relief for those who are in a position to gamble millions on a business, but not those who can only gamble thousands on a career. It's a pattern repeated throughout the tax system, but as we've seen with the charity debacle, while these loopholes are used, they will be very hard indeed to close.

The BP board, 1960. These gentlemen are probably the 1%. Credit: Getty

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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With the BBC Food’s collection under threat, here's how to make the most of online recipes

Do a bit of digging, trust your instincts – and always read the comments.

I don’t think John Humphrys is much of a chef. Recently, as his Today co-presenter Mishal Husain was discussing the implications of the BBC’s decision to axe its Food website (since commuted to transportation to the Good Food platform, run by its commercial arm), sharp-eared listeners heard the Humph claim that fewer recipes on the web could only be a good thing. “It would make it easier!” he bellowed in the background. “We wouldn’t have to choose between so many!”

Husain also seemed puzzled as to why anyone would need more than one recipe for spaghetti bolognese – but, as any keen cook knows, you can never have too many different takes on a dish. Just as you wouldn’t want to get all your news from a single source, it would be a sad thing to eat the same bolognese for the rest of your life. Sometimes only a molto autentico version, as laid down by a fierce Italian donna, rich with tradition and chopped liver, will do – and sometimes, though you would never admit it in a national magazine, you crave the comfort of your mum’s spag bol with grated cheddar.

The world wouldn’t starve without BBC Food’s collection but, given that an online search for “spaghetti bolognese recipe” turns up about a million results, it would have been sad to have lost one of the internet’s more trustworthy sources of information. As someone who spends a large part of each week researching and testing recipes, I can assure you that genuinely reliable ones are rarer than decent chips after closing time. But although it is certainly the only place you’ll find the Most Haunted host Yvette Fielding’s kedgeree alongside Heston Blumenthal’s snail porridge, the BBC website is not the only one that is worth your time.

The good thing about newspaper, magazine and other commercial platforms is that most still have just enough budget to ensure that their recipes will have been made at least twice – once by the writer and once for the accompanying photographs – though sadly the days when everyone employed an independent recipe tester are long gone. Such sites also often have sufficient traffic to generate a useful volume of comments. I never make a recipe without scrolling down to see what other people have said about it. Get past the “Can’t wait to make this!” brigade; ignore the annoying people who swap baked beans for lentils and then complain, “This is nothing like dhal”; and there’s usually some sensible advice in there, too.

But what about when you leave the safety of the big boys and venture into the no man’s land of the personal blog? How do you separate the wheat from the chaff and find a recipe that actually works? You can often tell how much work a writer has put in by the level of detail they go into: if they have indicated how many people it serves, or where to find unusual ingredients, suggested possible tweaks and credited their original sources, they have probably made the dish more than once. The photography is another handy clue. You don’t have to be Annie Leibovitz to provide a good idea of what the finished dish ought to look like.

Do a bit of digging as part of your prep. If you like the look of the rest of the site, the author’s tastes will probably chime with your own. And always, always, wherever the recipe is from, read it all the way through, even before you order the shopping. There is nothing more annoying than getting halfway through and then realising that you need a hand blender to finish the dish, just as the first guest arrives.

Above all, trust your instincts. If the cooking time seems far too short, or the salt content ridiculously high, it probably is, so keep an eye on that oven, check that casserole, keep tasting that sauce. As someone who once published a magic mince pie recipe without any sugar, I’m living proof that, occasionally, even the very best of us make mistakes. 

Felicity Cloake is the New Statesman’s food columnist. Her latest book is The A-Z of Eating: a Flavour Map for Adventurous Cooks.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad