Child benefit withdrawal will make it better to work less for families with over seven children

And come 2076, that will be the case for every family in the nation.

The child tax credit withdrawal, taking effect on Monday, will lead to marginal tax rates of over 100 per cent on families with more than eight children earning between £50,000 and £60,000.

The IFS explains how the marginal rates are calculated:

Affected taxpayers will pay back one per cent of their family’s Child Benefit for every £100 by which taxable income exceeds £50,000. One per cent of Child Benefit is £10.56 per year for a 1-child family, and an additional £6.97 per child for larger families. Hence the marginal tax rate between £50,000 and £60,000 is increased by about 11 percentage points for the first child and by an additional 7 percentage points for each subsequent one. So, for example, while about 320,000 people will find that their marginal income tax rate increases to more than 50%, about 40,000 of them - those with three or more children - will find that it jumps to at least 65%.

They offer a chart with the rate calculated up to four children:

By seven children, the marginal rate rises to 99.35 per cent, and by eight, it breaks 100 per cent (106.32 per cent, to be exact). This means that any individual with a family of eight kids earning between £50,000 and £60,000 would be better off if they reduced their salary back down to £50,000. In fact, for that individual, they would have to earn £61,105 before their post-tax income was the same as it was at £50,000.

It's unclear whether any families actually exist matching that criterion - rather wonderfully, my back-of-the-envelope maths (which assumes that the exponential decrease in the number of families of each size continues: e.g., there are 1/8th the number of families with three or more kids as there are with two or more, so I'm assuming that there are correspondingly 1/8th the number of families with four or more as there are with three or more, and so on) suggests that there may be exactly one – but even if there are none at the moment, there's no reason why there won't be one in the future. Families with eight children do, after all, exist.

In fact, as time goes on, this problem will get worse. The IFS points out that child benefit is uprated with inflation, while tax bands aren't. Currently, each extra child after the first increases your "marginal tax rate" by around seven per cent, but suppose child benefit is uprated by two per cent a year. In that case, the marginal tax would exceed one hundred per cent for families with seven children next year; for six children in the year 2020; for five children in the year 2028; and, eventually, for families with just one child – i.e., every family – in the year 2076.

Hopefully the law will be changed before then, of course. But as a rule of thumb, laws which become ridiculously damaging unless you actively intervene ought not be signed in the first place. Oops.

Children. Photograph: Getty Images

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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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