UK tax laws repel top athletes

But this might be about to change.

Hydration, shoes, sponsorship, training, diet… tax rules? The last item in that list will not have been weighing heavily on the minds of many runners in the London marathon last weekend.

They are, however rather more of a consideration for international athletes competing in UK pro-sports events. Thanks to current Treasury policy, entry could easily leave them seriously out of pocket.

The HMRC Foreign Entertainers Unit levies tax on foreign sportsmen and women not simply by reference to earnings made from the events they enter the UK to take part in, but also by looking at global sponsorship income.

At the highest levels of sport, the majority of annual earnings are in the form of such sponsorship arrangements. Sellers of training equipment, drinks, perfumes, watches — even broadband (thank you, Mr Branson) — want a sprinkling of top quality athletic shimmer to help shift their wares. The remuneration for many such favoured athletes makes some of their event winnings look positively mean by comparison.

The UK and US revenues are alone in plundering this branding income of international guests at their championships, matches, games, and competitions — with the result that participation in UK events can appear on stars’ books as a loss-making endeavour.

This policy has in recent years found many top athletes deciding against entering UK events. There is a difficult call to be made as to whether the reputational capital they accrue from appearing in UK events is worth the tax payable. The value a major sponsor may put on their man’s profile in the UK is often quite intangible; the prospect of a bill from HMRC running to tens, or even hundreds of thousands of pounds, is not.

This difficult decision has been averted, however, for two upcoming athletics meetings as after years of lobbying by the sports industry, the Treasury has at last issued a concession to their policy. Buried in the 629 pages of Finance Bill 2013 (only slightly down from last year’s record-breaking 686) lie two clauses that grant exemptions from income tax to accredited competitors at the 2013 Olympic Anniversary Games and 2014 Commonwealth Games. News that Usain Bolt will make his first non-Olympic UK appearance in four years indicates the concession is timely.

This year’s concession is stand-alone, but could augur wider change. The case has long been made that UK plc loses out from its current approach to international sport. The Treasury may see the arrival to our shores of itinerant stars as a cash cow to be milked, but the taxes raised are coming at the expense of more significant opportunities (including the 2010 Champions League final which went to Madrid instead).

The economic rally of Q3 last year demonstrated the value to the UK of hosting international sport. Stand-alone tax breaks encourage competitors to help make such events the international displays of expertise they should be. However, the fiscal atmosphere surrounding them remains tense and the UK could benefit hugely from a permanent softening of its policy.

Edward Keene is from private client law firm Maurice Turnor Gardner LLP. This story first appeared on Spear's magazine

Usain Bolt. Photograph: Getty Images

This is a story from the team at Spears magazine.

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear