Margaret Hodge shrugs off “tax prat" line

Interview with the PAC chairman.

It’s been an interesting year for tax, and in particular the debate about where the line is drawn between legitimate tax planning and aggressive avoidance. The focus on whether everyone is contributing their fair share is a consequence of austerity and is being played out all around the world, where every pound, dollar and euro of income is more valuable than ever.

In the UK, the Public Accounts Committee (PAC), the body responsible for shining a light into the murkier corners of government finance and making sure taxpayers get value for money, has been at the heart of this debate. The current chairman of the committee is Lady Margaret Hodge. Lady Hodge (the title comes from her second husband) is proud of the PAC’s work on tax, a project it kicked off after a whistleblower reported a so-called sweetheart deal between Goldman Sachs and HMRC. In getting the committee to focus on the issue, Hodge has turned tax into something of a personal crusade.

In the process she rounded on tax advisors, including accountants and lawyers, who devise tax-minimising schemes. The PAC hauled the top tax partners at the Big Four in for a challenging session. In the process she has earned the ire of parts of the profession. Taxation dubbed her its “Tax Prat of the Year”, in a cover story that challenged almost every aspect of the PAC’s report.

Sitting in her Westminster office, Hodge shrugs off the “tax prat” line and claims she doesn’t have a view about the accountancy profession as a whole. “There are people who do a good, honest job. But there is a divide. There are others, in accountancy and the legal profession, who take a different view to mine about the role of tax in society.”

Anyone who has followed the work of the PAC, or indeed who has followed Hodge’s career, won’t be surprised to hear her mount a passionate defence of the positive redistributive role of tax.

“There is a civic duty on all of us to contribute according to our means to the common good,” she says. “In very practical ways all your readers want a public transport system that works and want the realm defended and so on. Even if you can manage on your own and don’t need the support of the state, there are all sorts of things you want from the state and there is a moral imperative to pay a fair contribution to society.

"I know there are people who don’t think that way, I just disagree with them.”

Hodge admits the PAC stumbled onto tax avoidance as an area for investigation, but she is clear why it has become such a defining issue.

“The reason it’s become a big issue is because we’re living in hard times and everyone is feeling the pinch. People want to know everyone is paying a fair share. And it is about fairness. There are those who see tax as just a legal obligation, but I don’t agree. There are legal obligations, but they arise out of a civic duty.”

The rest of this interview can be read on economia.

Margaret Hodge MP. Photograph: Getty Images

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What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

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 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times