True tales from an austere kingdom (3)

Parliament was in uproar.

It so happened that the financiers tasked with examining the king’s books had discovered that he had less than one million pounds in his private vault.  

“The king cannot be expected to live in such dire poverty,” one MP complained, "austerity must not be allowed to extend to the monarcy," and the Prime Minister was forced to agree with the both of them. 

The opposition were even more concerned. “How would it look,” one MP suggested, “if the king was visiting one of our allies and found that he was without the money to pay his hotel bill, or even, heaven forbid, so much as the spare change to pay a taxi fare? It would be an insult to our entire nation.”

The suggestion of a king without money was so horrific that the Speaker had to shout ‘order’ over thirty times before any could be achieved.

“We must raise more tax for him,” another MP proposed, and of course, not so much as a single voice was raised in dissent.

A Bill was drawn up, the Spare Change Tax Bill, which proposed an additional tax of 2 pence from every citizen, to be paid once per week. As the government MPs wisely observed, the tax could easily be met out of spare change, without any inconvenience on any person.

Many MPs objected to the Bill, complaining that it would not raise nearly enough money, but a statement was read out from the King himself, stating his satisfaction with the Bill, and all dissent quickly ended.

Here at my club we decided to pay the tax out of the tips we gave  to the waiters, wenches and numerous assorted staff that club employees, vast numbers of staff who fleeced us regularly, employed seemingly in some cases just to keep them off the streets and to cause us maximum inconvenience.

However, the rest of the kingdom failed to implement similar sensible systems in their own finances. From the very first week of the tax there was uproar from the rabble, who would gather any such place as they might, before the troops arrived to disperse them, to shout down the need for coinage in the king's trousers. I had occasion to hear numerous speeches against the tax, most of which began “2 pence may not seem much to an MP or Lord, but I only have 6 pence a week for bread and 7 pence for meat.”

Now to me the maths seem simple, cut down to 5 pence a week on bread and 6 pence for meat and pay your taxes, but to the rabble any idea of economy was beyond them, rather they would riot, make long-winded speeches and draw up petitions.  Indeed, one petition was signed by the king himself, no less than seventeen times.

A gentleman at my club, with, it has to be admitted, a great deal of time on his hands since he delegated management of his rental properties to a gang of local ruffians, decided to draw up a petition in support of the tax, signed by the king himself no fewer than 50,000 times. It left no doubt in the minds of any on which side the king was really minded in this debate.

The summer turned into one of violence, mobs, riots and chaos, known forever as the Spare Change Riots. Thousands were thrown onto the streets for failure to pay their rent, and thousands more were arrested for non payment of the tax, causing a massive strain on the justice system that caused fifty convicted murderers to be mistakenly released before they could be hanged. The magistrate had to order the hanging of 50 Spare Change Rioters instead, which in turn led to a riot by tens of thousands of the lower sort. The rioters rushed the gallows, released the 50 convicted rioters and publicly executed  in their stead the executioner, the magistrate and a man unfortunate enough to bear an exact likeness for the Prime Minister.

The soldiers retorted, but by this time they arrived the riot had long since dissolved, so they siply went from house to house in notorious areas of the city, arresting those that looked like rioters. It was the speediest justice imaginable, and within no time over 5,000 of the rioter type had been convicted in the stead of those missing 50.

Who knows how far the riots and disturbances would have gone that summer,for revolution was in the air. Why the monarchy itself seemed under threat, nay the very world we live in was precariously poised. 

So fortunate it is then, that as the king’s entourage were packing his things in order to enable a hasty retreat to a safe recluse in peaceful Oxfordshire, there, in the king’s spare trousers, was discovered £1 million in notes, gold and general loose change. There was no need for the Small Change Tax after all, even though MPs made a strong case for using the New Money to begin a war against France, or some such nation.

The Act was cancelled and aborted and people no longer had to find their tuppence per week towards the king’s upkeep. All talk of riots, revolution and the end of the world ceased and me and my friends at the club were able to get on with our day to day lives without the threat of mob-inspired violence and lunacy.

It has, of course, since been the case, that before any Finance Bill is passed through parliament the king must come before the House and empty his pockets, bringing with him, of course, his spare trousers and any gold they may contain.