Romney paid 15% tax on $45m income

Republican candidate for President releases federal tax returns on his 2010 and 2011 earnings.

The Mitt Romney campaign published details this morning of the Republican Presidential candidate's federal tax returns, showing that he expects to pay $6.2 million (£4m) in taxes on income of $45 million (£29m) from the last two years -- tax rates of 13.9 per cent in 2010 and 15.4 per cent in 2011.

The disclosure reveals the extent of Romney's wealth, questions about which have dogged his nomination campaign in recent weeks. Romney and his wife Ann hold around a quarter of a billion dollars in assets, largely derived from Romney's involvement in the private equity firm, Bain Capital. The Washington Post and other newspapers this morning reported the Romneys have a large numbers of offshore investments -- in parts of the world including Bermuda and the Cayman Islands -- with funds from a recently closed Swiss bank account.

The Romneys' incomes of $21.6m in 2010 and $20.9m in 2010 came mainly from investments, which under the US capital gains law are taxed at 15 per cent. The maximum tax rate on earned income is 35 per cent.

At a debate in Florida last night Romney said:

I pay all the taxes that are legally required and not a dollar more. I don't think you want someone as the candidate for president who pays more taxes than he owes.

The former Massachusetts governor noted that under rival Newt Gingrich's proposal to reduce capital gains taxes to zero, "I'd have paid no taxes in the last two years."

The Gingrich campaign made a surprising surge in recent weeks; the former Speaker of the House opened up the nominee race with a landslide win in the South Carolina primary. Fifty delegates are at stake on 31 January when four million registered Republican voters will take to the polls in Florida, choosing between the remaining candidates Romney, Gingrich, Rick Santorum and Ron Paul.

Alice Gribbin is a Teaching-Writing Fellow at the Iowa Writers' Workshop. She was formerly the editorial assistant at the New Statesman.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood