Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

Yeah, sing it Tom..

So today I was jawing with some local business people, and we end up talking about a specific individual, he is also loosely described as a local business guy, except, he’s winging it.

Now me, I’ve always been that guy, you know, 300 people drive down a road doing 50 in a 30, only one of them gets stopped and given a ticket, or whatever the scenario from the DOT inspection to the tax inspection, yeah, I’m that guy.

I’m as happy to be fly as the next guy, difference is, I know the only way I can be fly and walk is to do something minor that is undocumented, if there is a paper trail, I’ll get nailed.

Lots of other guys, fuck it, they’ll do 50 in the 30 and apparently get away with it scot free for years, then there is the odd one, he’s doing 60 in a 30, and he has a dead body in the trunk, and his car is running on smuggled uranium, the guy is fucking teflon.

It’s one thing I have seen more and more of in recent years as the economy tanks, people getting fly to get by, but even so, in every country in the planet, there is always the one agency that nobody fucks with, because they hold all the aces.

Here in the UK that agency is arguably HMRC, they are like tax men, but they are revenue men (or increasingly nowadays bitchy wimminz) and the difference is revenue men were the texas ranger and everyone else was the local hillbilly deputy dawg, and particularly down here in the south western part of the country with our history of smuggling french wines and brandies and all of the rest back in the days of highwaymen and so on, the revenue man was despised and feared at the same time.

Sure, if you are Amazon and have 500 corporate lawyers and accountants on the payroll you can fuck with HMRC and make profits and pay taxes on 5 bucks, with your turnover of 5 billion bucks, but for mere flesh and blood mortals… nope, not so much.

The police need a warrant to enter my house, HMRC can command the police to break my door down, they don’t need anyone else’s permission or signature… bailiffs and debt collectors can’t take your furniture or your clothes or you tools, HMRC can literally leave you standing in the clothes you are wearing, nothing else is off limits to them.

HMRC basically enforce being an unpaid tax collector on everyone running anything bigger than a small one man business, they force you to issue tax charges and keep the money for them and to keep paperwork to keep it all straight and by fuck it better be straight, and you can’t opt out, but you can opt in.

Being late filing these returns is one thing, you’ll get fined, being crap and making mistakes is another, you’ll get fined and penalties, doing anything that smacks of fraud or avoidance is still another thing, you can get up to 7 years jail time *and* up to unlimited fines and asset seizures.

I can also tell you from personal experience that you can make genuine innocent mistakes, doing what you think is the correct, legal, compliant thing, and you can still be wrong… “who fucking knew” well, the revenue man knew that law, or point of law, so fuck you.

So, back to the story and the individual we are all discussing, yup, he is being fly as fuck, and we were trying to work out how he could be that fly and still be legal, pulling out all the wrinkles, and we couldn’t figure out a way to do it that was revenue man proof.

He’s breaking the law, fucking has to be, and as far as we can work out, he hasn’t even thought about it, so it isn’t deliberate so much as ignorant (and we all know how far ignorance of the law will get you) and the only reason he has got away with it is everyone assumes he is legal and paying his pound of flesh, and he and his old man have been around for decades, so they are well known.

I’m reminded of a true story that I knew first hand from 40 years ago, another local businessman, well known, and his wife who had a small hobby business shop selling silk lingerie, and she drove a new racing green daimler double six, except she had never passed a driving test, so she never had legal insurance, and yes this was back in the day before computers came to law enforcement, well, there was the odd mainframe, but everything else and queries to it were done by paper and hand.. so everyone knew her, all the cops saw her, but they just assumed, nobody had actually pulled up a file with her name and looked at all the details and looked for anything out of kilter.

Thing is, for various reasons, *I* knew this guy was fly as fuck, but nobody else did, (they just call him a cunt) but, thing is, *I* didn’t know that they didn’t know, because they have had business dealings with him for far longer than I have, so I sort of let the cat out of the bag…

Let me be clear, I still don’t wish him harm at the hands of the revenue man, there is no way I would (deliberately) shop him, there is certainly no benefit to me, and arguably some possible future cost, but the story itself is all true, and it highlights an interesting point as society and the economy decays.

THERE A LOT OF FLY FUCKERS OUT THERE, always have been, but as teh state spirals down the drain, what do you think is going to happen, is it;

1/ going to get even more lax and incompetent so even more people can be as fly as fuck and walk away

2/ going to get all IBM / stasi / database on everyone and screen every cunt and squeeze every last drop of blood from anyone it can.

My money is on #2, which is why as I type this I have ONE unresolved matter “alles in order” papers wise, over the past ten years I have had a number (of which I will never speak of not even privately) of errors corrected so that my papers are good and cleanish, and the one remaining one should be resolved on way or another within the next three months, and either way it shouldn’t be too bad, depending on the angle you hold your head I *may* or may not owe the state a couple of thousand in taxes, and that shit hurts but it ain’t jail time because nobody can convince a judge it is pre-meditated tax fraud, hold your hands up, say sorry, ask for time to pay…. it’s not like I have any assets in my own name to be seized, better to let the cunt work it off… it’s only peanuts anyway.

But, here in the UK, for the revenue men in the shape of HMRC the registration threshold is 85k per annum, /365 that’s 232 quid a day, and remember, this is TURNOVER, not profits, if you’re in a game that has a 10% profit margin that means you are only making 20 quid GROSS profit a day, you’re talking a subsistence wage from a small fruit and veg stall here.

Getting your revenue man tax wrong (as in mistake wrong, not as in fraud wrong) or filing it late isn’t too bad, sure you get penalties and you can be fined a 100% surcharge on the tax you owe, but these are all ways for the revenue man to bleed you even more, so it’s good.

But, not being registered at all, or being registered as John Smith and having all the cheques paid to Trapper Smith, your loyal labrador cross who happens to have a bank account in his name, that’s fucking fraud my man, that’s not being fly, the revenue man doesn’t care if you are putting whores or methadone on the streets, as long as he gets his tax cut, he don’t care, but if you are selling fruit and veg and he ain’t getting his cut, then you my son are right up there with lil Kim and Putin.

Being fly is eating the “wasted” fruit and veg that don’t get sold, or it will be until you need to prove it got wasted by showing the itemised receipt from the landfill centre showing 10 lbs of potatoes and 37 brussel sprouts and 24 oz of carrots all went into the biodigester.

I’m reminded about the joke, guy works maintenance up the motor factory for 25 years, every single day for 25 years the gate guard stops him, makes him lift his coat off the wheelbarrow, makes him go through coat pockets, makes him open his lunch box, never finds anything, so after he does his 25 years and retires the gate guard asks him, never caught you with anything, but most everyone up there is a crook, and my spidey sense tells me you were dirty too, I just couldn’t catch you doing anything, what was it?

course, he was stealing wheelbarrows.

Nowadays it’s real hard to be fly, almost everything you do leaves electronic tracks, for example there is a mathematical thing, I can’t remember it, it’s a rule or law of some sort with a name, and it deals with the statistical probability of a bill of sale starting with the number 1, if you just create them by hand at random you’ll end up with the “wrong” distribution of numbers on your receipts, and yes the revenue men use this trick, amongst many many others including checking those electronic records, yours and everyone else’s, and looking for discrepancies.

So you can’t be fly by hiding shit, you can only be fly by hiding shit in plain sight.

Company cars are a bitch if you own the company, unless it is brand new and on lease, you’ll still get taxed as thought it is a new car on a company lease.

but, you can charge mileage on a private car, just record your business mileage and charge it to the company at 45 pence per mile, 10,000 miles per year at 45 pence per mile is 450,000 pennies or 4,500 quid, and that’s tax free dude… and a 500 quid diesel car that does 50 to the gallon and 5.70 a gallon costs you 11.4 pence per mile to run in fuel, sure, there is a tiny bit extra for depreciation, and insurance and so on, but, 30p per mile profit, if you’re driving at 50 and making 30p per mile tax free that’s 15 quid an hour…. you can make a fucking living driving the car up and down past the fruit and veg stand.

Hey revenue man, I don’t make the rules, I don’t even understand them, I’m a welder, this is shit my accountant told me to do.

Google location history will prove you did the miles, hell, it will even prove the route you took and average speed, you just have to make sure that somewhere along the last few miles at the other end of the journey you pass someone that may want a quote for welding, or may have some rods to sell, or that may want to talk to you about promotion, or may want to talk to you about training, or something…

There’s fly, and there is fly as fuck, and there is too fucking fly for your own fucking good.