Another day, another MP's expenses claim leak. Today's include Bill Wiggin, a Shadow Minister who claims to have put down the wrong address on his expenses form by mistake and therefore claimed mortgage interest on his family home that he hasn't even got a mortgage on the lucky man (lucky for having no mortgage obviously, not so lucky for being found out!). Of course Bill, we all know you meant to put the London apartment address down but got confused by the oh-so-difficult PAAE form filling exercise (see common sense in my last blog). He seems to have claimed up to £20k a year since 2001/02 based on the info at theyworkforyou.com. Useful error to have made.
On the subject of this mistake, let's have a look at Bill's past life - might he be an ordinary bloke from the street that found himself elected as an MP and therefore prone to making adminstrative mistakes? Here's his wiki entry:
Wiggin is the son of former MP Jerry Wiggin.. He attended Eton and later read Economics at the University of Wales, Bangor. He also served in the Royal Welch Fusiliers in the TA, being a platoon commander for Holyhead, Bangor and Caernarfon. Following this, Wiggin worked as a Trader in Foreign Exchange Options for UBS from 1991-3, then was an Associate Director of Kleinwort Benson from 1994-98, then as a manager in the Foreign Exchange department of Commerzbank from 1998..
But, just one minute! It might not be Bill's fault! This is from the House of Commons guidance on filling out PAAE2 forms: If you have a mortgage, a copy of your annual statement of interest must be provided each year to the Department. If it is not clear from this documentation what the amount of interest payable is on the property, further evidence may be required. You must also inform the Department of any alterations to the terms of your mortgage.
How could this mistake have gone un-noticed if he was being asked to provide a mortgage statement of interest based on a home that had no mortgage on it? The system was not exactly well policed? Maybe we have been paying an extortionate amount to some private consultancy company (insert any big name here) to 'audit' the process. Maybe this is the next scandal? One whose Board is made up of senior former MPs or is advised by current MPs?
At the moment it would seem the whole UK political stack is about to tumble. Some of my more left wing friends are calling for the next Guy Fawkes and looking forward to an entirely new political process to replace what can only be described as the pile of poo that we have right now. I'm not so optimistic about it all really. If you scan the websites of the popluar newspapers - NOTW, Sun etc they do mention political troubles. But todays for example also mention in as many column inches, if not more;
1. Some guy off The Apprentice who allegedly swallowed a hamster at a party?
2 Some woman off The Apprentice who stripped for some photos?
(note: both of the above come above the MPs expenses story)
3 Some woman with fake tits (who Polko actually likes for her menipulation [sic] of the media) who has thrown out her husband and his personal chattels - including a first copy of his CD single, Mysterious Girl - what's he going to do without it I ask?
etc
etc
And of course, there's a whole dollop of football news in there too.
God save us all. If only you were real God.
Which brings me to football. Well, almost. This Friday sees the release of a movie that is based on a book that has been wallowing around for some years. The movie is called Away Days. Great website. Really well thought out write up about football hooligan fashion at the turn of the 1980s. Shame that the fashion world is trying to jump on the bandwagon and re-release all those clothes all over again. Don't get me wrong, I would love to buy another blue benetton rugby shirt, but people are going to look prize dicks walking around in Sergio Tacchini tracksuits and Kappa roll-necks in the 21st Century. I cannot believe the amount of people that have started speaking about various items of retro dresser wear - like the book's author I find it hard to talk about the cult as 'football casuals' as there was nothing casual about the £200+ Valentino and Armani jumpers I was wearing in the early 80s, or the trainers that cost then what they do now. How did we all afford it? That's for another blog methinks :-)
So, to all those people who claim to have been there in the thick of it - you weren't there mate, you couldn't have been, otherwise I'd know ya! (my sense of humour knows no bounds?)
Anyway, it was great. It is over. Let's leave it at that. And a picture.
In the middle of the 80's I used to buy the Sunday Times religously. This might not be strange in itself given it was a Sunday when I did it. Nothing special there you might think? Only, I was 16 or 17 years old and I guess it's not the usual thing you'd expect someone of that age to settle down to read. Especially given that I wasn't a nerdy 6th former type at the time (not me - not then, not now, not ever!). On the Saturday night you'd usually have found me dancing around to the latest synth-pop electronic music at my local nightclub, driving around the town with my mates eyeing up women or, a year or so later, taking my girlfriend out.
So, what was I doing with the Times on my knee each Sunday afternoon. Tucked up happily in a suburban house somewhere, essentially nowhere (but that's open to debate) in the east of the country?
In fact, after a quick read through a news section or two (back then the Sunday Times was even bigger and heavier than it is now.. or maybe my hands are bigger?), I used to spend most of my time browsing the Jobs pages, focused mainly on City of London type jobs, and the Cars and Houses pages stuffed full of ads for Bentley's, exotic Italian sports cars and Thames-side apartments that were going for £100,000... imagine that £100,000! (I'll have 3 of those these days). I used to amaze myself at what some people were selling - not becuase of the fact that it was a real life Lamborghini like I'd grown up with on my bedroom wall, but more because I realised that some people were on the other side of the transaction and had the sort of money that most people could never ever dream of having (back then credit wasn't thrown at you like in recent times and if you drove a nice car you were not leasing it). I even set myself a target of being a millionaire by the time I was 30 and driving a Porsche 928S. Don't ask me where that particular dream went, but come and go it certainly did despite a move to London and a really well paid job for a while - I think I know what happened along the way but that's for another blog post..
Hmmm... What brought this retro-rant on you might ask? Last week I was completing some work for a client listening to The Pet Shop Boys 'Please' and the various 12 inches associated with it in the background. Listening to Opportunities or Love Comes Quickly brought back a feint whiff of my mindset and aspirations at the time. Like a lot of kids in the 80s I did have the Lamborghini Countach poster on the wall alongside Debbie Harry wrapped provocatively in a plastic sheet (focus, Polko, focus!). So, mine was a typical UK upbringing of glorification of material items and money-making and Thatcher was in power and people were indeed making lot's of money.. some people anyway, and my world was touching on that little group through girlfriends and family businesses so what did I know of others in Merseyside or elsewhere that were actually not making anything at all.? That was to be changed a few years later in the episode where Polko ventures west from his home town.
Nothing wrong with a bit of dreaming though if you ask me. People were still social, people still talked to each other. These days almost everyone is unable to talk sensibly to you as they are tapping away at the text keys of the latest mobile gizmo - a disease that started sometime in the 90s and has subsequently come into its horrible own in the first ten years of the 21st century. Even if they did start a conversation today it would probably be about some minor celebrity on tv last night, their latest BMW 3-series lease car, football or some other drivel wholly unrelated to how they were really feeling or thinking. Almost certainly not the state of the Middle East or about something with a little more meaning than kicking around a piece of leather that is meant to symbolise a pigs stomach for some unknown reason.
Give me the 80s any day - to (mis-)quote Depeche Mode, back then People Were People...
...oh, and the winning Euromillions Lottery numbers this week would come in handy to buy some of those things I used to look at too. I'd still drive that white Lamborghini Countach (if only to disgust my current girlfriend!) but might pass on the London flat for something a little more rural, and a little more French.. with horses darling!
Dream on.
etc
