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HMRC Chases Gr00gle

HMRC Chases Gr00gle

Mr Sprocket (Inspector of Taxes) wakes on the fateful morning. He has a meeting with Sprogs, Head of Finance at Gr00Gle. He dresses as usual:  well worn grey suit, grey shirt (it had been white once, now faded to grey) green tie (only slightly stained with gravy) and brown shoes (somewhat dusty). His toilet complete he jumped into his faithful red Sierra and heads for Gr00Gle’s HQ in the heart of the city.

Sprocket parked his Sierra in a visitor’s space and noticed as he exits what's left of his car that he’s parked next to a smart Lexus 460 saloon. A further glance reveals a car park littered with expensive German saloons. Rich Bastards, he thinks. Looking around he sees the entrance to the impressive chrome tower office block and heads for the door.

Sprocket puts out a hand to open the door but it glides back of its own accord. Smooth, he thought. He walks (or wades) across the thick carpet to the reception desk. “Hello” he says to the pneumatic lady sitting across the desk, “my name is Sprocket from HMRC and I have come to see...” but he got no further. “Sign here please Sir” the lady says “they are waiting for you”. Sprocket signs the computer screen somewhat awkwardly. Why can’t they just have a book like everyone else, he muses to himself.

The receptionist directs him to an express elevator. “Take the lift to the 68th floor she says, you will be collected”.  As he walks to the lift he replayed what she’d said in his head “they are waiting for you”.... who are ‘they’ he wondered. The express elevator lived up to its name and whisked him to floor 68. There was only just time to polish his brown shoes on the back of his trousers before the lift stopped with a jerk and a chime. Outside the lift a smartly dressed lady (secretary he imagined) was waiting. “Good morning Mr Sprocket” she said  “follow me please”.

She led the way into a sizable meeting room decked out without regard to cost. To his surprise the room was full of people he didn't know but he recognised Sprogs who came forward to meet him. “Good Morning” says Sprogs shaking his hand, “we are all prepared for you”. "Let me make the introductions though I am sure you know everyone" - although this was patently not true. At any rate Sprogs made a supreme effort in this case and introduced each member of the team:

“Firstly can I introduce you to Mr Cash our Partner at PVVC and these are three of his Directors, a tax advisor from the USA, one from France and one from the UK”. Sprocket shook their hands limply but immediately forgot their names. They were dressed like everyone in the room in razor-sharp suits, crisp shirts, shining leather shoes and fabulous ties. Sprocket was very conscious of his own attire which in comparison was manifestly downmarket. “Next” continued Sprogs “we have our Head of Legal and two of his legal advisors from Baker & McKenzie. Sprocket knew that Bakers were the best and most expensive legal advisors that money could buy. The Bakers guys smiled at him, the sort of smiles that crocodiles do.

The Gr00Gle guys sat on one side of the long table and Sprocket noticed that the only other chair was on the other side of the table. He sat down. A smart lady offered him Tea or Coffee which he declined. “So” said Sprogs “I understand that your office feels that there is some issue with our tax affairs – how can we help you with that?” he enquired. Sweat broke out in Sprocket’s brow then he could hear a fire alarm ringing – what the heck he thought? Then he woke up. It was just his alarm clock. It had all been a bad dream after all.



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04th Dec 2012 21:59

Davy Sprocket had another dream

Where his boss was wined and dined and flattered and cajoled and treated like royalty by Gr00gle, so the boss felt obliged to repay them in some way and so he agreed to accept 1% tax on profits. Sprocket wasn't very happy about this and thought it wasn't correct procedure but who could he complain to about his boss, except maybe let it slip to the press? He then remembered what happens to whistleblowers so he kept his mouth shut and did as he was told ... and then one day .... he woke up. :)

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05th Dec 2012 09:00


Then he realises that tax is not based on morals but the law and his hands are tied.  On the one hand he has the MP's who make the laws telling him to collect more on moral grounds, on the other he has to face the company who is acting within the laws set by the MP's and say sod off to morals.


All this us supported by the accountant who thought up the wheeze in the first place so that the company does not have to pay much.  He laughs all the way to the bank because even if the wheeze is wrong, he does not pay, only his client pays for getting it wrong.


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05th Dec 2012 10:32

50 shades of Grey

Plus a shade of green and one of dusty brown.

You should be an author.

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to yelsnew
05th Dec 2012 10:41


But there's no money in it :(


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to johnjenkins
05th Dec 2012 11:16


Captainblack wrote:

But there's no money in it :(



No money in writing porn[***] versions of situations arising in the world of tax?  Madness!  It's a niche to be exploited!

In all seriousness there is a LOT of innuendo in accountancy/tax, which is possibly a little worrying...  I think a '50 Shades' take on it is long overdue (ok, that last part was only semi-serious)

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05th Dec 2012 11:12

Not shades of Gray ...

as Sprocket failed to exclaim 'Holy Crap' at least 5 times before he got to the lift! I love the interview I saw with E L James by the BBC the other day ...'Gosh' exclaimed the interviewer ..' 'you wrote the whole book without any plan, plot or pre-planned structure? ...thats ... amazing'!' 'I know' gushes authoress ..'I just woke up each day and thought what will happen today'.


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05th Dec 2012 11:23

You're quite correct duck ...

it what other trade do its protaganists get to talk about double entry without everyone falling about the place?! I'm not going to even start on about the various reliefs available ....

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