Monday, 1 June 2026

The K2 Scheme and Value Jersey: The Morality of Exploiting Loopholes













Jimmy Carr and the K2 Scheme Loophole

The K2 tax scheme used by Jimmy Carr was fully legal at the time, falling under tax avoidance rather than tax evasion. It exploited a loophole in UK law that allowed high earners to route income through offshore trusts and receive most of it back as “loans,” which were not taxable. Because the structure complied with the letter of the law, Carr faced no criminal charges, but the arrangement was widely viewed as aggressive and ethically questionable.

The mechanism itself relied on a Jersey‑based trust. Carr’s UK earnings were paid into this offshore vehicle, which then returned the bulk of the money to him as a repayable loan rather than income. Only a token salary was taxed normally. Since loans were not treated as taxable income, this allowed him to shelter millions each year from HMRC. More than a thousand high earners used similar structures, making K2 one of the most prominent avoidance schemes of its era.

Public reaction in 2012 was swift and severe. Then‑Prime Minister David Cameron publicly condemned the arrangement as “morally wrong,” turning what had been a niche tax‑planning strategy into a national scandal. Under intense scrutiny, Carr withdrew from the scheme, apologised, and later repaid the tax he had avoided. He has since said that the reputational damage and repayments meant he ultimately gained nothing from participating.

The fallout accelerated major changes in UK tax law. The 2013 Finance Bill introduced the General Anti‑Abuse Rule (GAAR), designed to shut down artificial arrangements created solely to avoid tax. HMRC also pursued promoters of successor schemes, issuing fines and challenging similar loan‑based structures in court. As a result, the type of offshore loan mechanism used in K2 is no longer viable under modern UK tax rules.

Value Jersey and the Political Loophole

Value Jersey’s approach is structurally very similar to a legal political loophole in the same way Jimmy Carr’s K2 arrangement was a legal tax avoidance scheme. In both cases, the actors follow the exact letter of the law while bypassing the clear spirit of what the law was designed to prevent. The contexts differ, taxation versus elections, but the underlying strategy is the same: use a carefully chosen organisational form to avoid triggering the legal definitions that would normally restrict or regulate the behaviour.

The first parallel is the distinction between avoidance and evasion. Carr did not illegally hide income; he used an artificial offshore structure to ensure his earnings no longer counted as “income” under UK tax law. Likewise, Value Jersey is not breaking Jersey’s Public Elections Law. Instead, by presenting itself as a “community movement” rather than a political party or regulated campaign entity, it avoids the legal definition of a candidate expense or a regulated third‑party campaigner. Both cases involve compliance with the letter of the law while sidestepping its intended purpose.

A second similarity lies in exploiting gaps in legislation. The K2 scheme worked because UK law had not yet closed the loophole around offshore trusts and repayable loans. In Jersey, the Public Elections Law contains no framework for third‑party campaigning, a mechanism that exists in the UK and many other democracies to prevent outside groups from spending large sums to influence voters. Because Jersey has never updated this part of its legislation, Value Jersey’s activities remain lawful even though they occupy a regulatory vacuum.

A third parallel is the use of general principles to justify the structure. Carr’s advisers argued he was simply receiving “loans,” which under financial definitions are not taxable income. Value Jersey similarly argues it is promoting broad policy ideas rather than supporting specific candidates. Because its central materials do not name individual candidates, the organisation maintains that its own spending does not count toward any candidate’s strict £3,500 cap. In both cases, the defence hinges on technical definitions rather than the broader intent of the law.

Finally, both situations triggered significant moral and political backlash. Carr’s scheme, though legal, was condemned as “morally wrong” for undermining the tax system while benefiting from it. In Jersey, critics argue that Value Jersey’s anonymous funding and undisclosed donors are “democratically wrong,” potentially allowing wealthy backers to influence an election without transparency. Opposition politicians have raised concerns about the integrity of the electoral process and the lack of public accountability.

The ultimate parallel is what typically happens next: the law changes. Carr’s scandal directly led to the UK’s General Anti‑Abuse Rule, which shut down artificial tax schemes. In Jersey, the Electoral Authority and several States Members have already indicated that the law will likely be rewritten after the June 2026 election to ensure that “non‑party political movements” cannot campaign anonymously in future. As with K2, the loophole remains legal only until the political system catches up.

In conclusion...

Just as the Jimmy Carr scandal exposed a gap between legal tax code and public morality, Value Jersey has exposed a gap between Jersey’s written election laws and the community’s expectations of democratic transparency.

Most democracies regulate third‑party campaigners by imposing registration, spending limits, and transparency rules designed to prevent hidden influence while still allowing legitimate civic participation. Jersey must do so too.

Sunday, 31 May 2026

More Short Stories: Be Still, My Soul




















This short story builds on the hymn by Kathrina von Schlegel (1752) within a Jersey wartime setting.

Be Still, My Soul

The winter of 1944 pressed hard upon the island. Food was scarce, tempers thin, and hope thinner still. In the narrow lanes above St Peter’s Valley, Elise Hamon walked with her head down, her basket empty except for a few limp carrots. It was late November, and the moon rose high above the hedgerows. The curfew would soon start. Patrols may come. She quickened her pace.

The Germans had taken her father in the autumn. No explanation. Just a knock at the door and the cold certainty that she would never see him again. Since then, the world had become a place of shadows, soldiers at every corner, hunger gnawing at every hour, fear settling like frost on the heart.

Be still, my soul! the Lord is on your side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;

Yet that morning, as she left the house, her mother had whispered the old hymn under her breath: “Be still, my soul; the Lord is on your side.” Elise had almost snapped at her. How could anyone speak of stillness now? Her thoughts were of despair: “Life is not worth living, we are so worried and distressed, we are starving, there is no food or fuel, and the cold seeps into our souls.”

A gust of wind swept through the valley, carrying the smell of woodsmoke and something else — something metallic. She rounded the bend and froze. A German soldier lay slumped against the stone wall, half‑hidden by brambles. His uniform was torn, his face pale beneath streaks of mud. Blood darkened the granite dry stone wall around him. He looked barely older than she was.

Elise’s first instinct was to run and leave him, to let the war claim one more life. But then he opened his eyes: blue, frightened, scared. She saw not the enemy, but a fellow human in pain. “Hilfe…” he whispered. “Please.” She stood trembling. Helping him felt like an act of treason. It would be so easy to leave him as he lay. But something in his expression, not the fear, but the weariness, struck her like a blow. It was the same hollow exhaustion she saw in her mother’s eyes each night.

Slowly, she knelt beside him. “What happened?” she asked. “Patrol… mine…” He winced. “I did not want this war. I only wanted to teach. My students… Berlin…” His voice cracked. “Bombs fell on our street.” Elise felt her breath catch. Loss recognised loss. The hymn rose again in her mind, unbidden: “Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain…”. She hated that it comforted her.

She tore a strip from her apron and pressed it to his wound. He gasped but did not pull away. “You shouldn’t be here,” she murmured. “I know.” His eyes fluttered. “But you stopped.” Elise swallowed hard. “I don’t know why.” “Because you have a good soul, eine gute Seele” he whispered. “Even in darkness.” She knew curfew was close. She had minutes at most.

Be still, my soul! your best, your heav’nly friend
Thru' thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

She helped him to his feet. He leaned heavily on her, each step a struggle. They moved through the valley like ghosts, keeping to hedgerows and shadows. At last they reached an abandoned farmer’s hut, half‑collapsed but sheltered from the wind. “You’ll be safe here for tonight,” she said. “I’ll bring water. Maybe bread.”

He caught her hand. “Why risk this?” Elise hesitated. The truth surprised her. “Because if I let you die,” she said softly, “I lose the last piece of myself that the war hasn’t taken.” His eyes shone with gratitude.

When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored

As she slipped back into the night, the promise of the hymn’s words echoed within her: “When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone.” An encounter with a stranger, reminding her of the words she had learned in Sunday school many years ago: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." Compassion reached across barriers and boundaries.

Your hope, your confidence, let nothing shake;
all now mysterious shall be bright at last.

For the first time in months, Elise felt the faintest stirring of hope, and hope was to come later that month, when the Red Cross ship Vega arrived, bringing supplies and succour to the starving Islanders. She did not know it then, but the Allies had now long liberated Normandy, and by May next year, the war would end, and the Islanders would be liberated themselves from German Occupation. The day before, the prison gates would be opened to release their captives, and she would be reunited with her beloved father, frail but still alive, and the final line of the hymn would ring true for her: “All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.”

Be still my soul! when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Saturday, 30 May 2026

The Day the Earth Caught Fire













Taking the title from the movie of the same name (an excellent film even if it was Nuclear test rather than climate change which caused the heat wave, this looks at the recent heat wave in Jersey, and sets the frame to a well known hymn.

The Day the Earth Caught Fire

The heat so stifling, still this night,
Waves of warm air in daylight
Keep me cool, above all things
With gentle breeze as beating wings

Come end the heat, for this I pray,
The rising temperature throughout the day
When will it end, when will that be
Before my sleep restored to me.

The endless hot air, comforts few
So hard to sleep the whole night thro'.
I toss and turn, and dreams forsake
And barely slumber till I wake.

O Earth, from whom the hot winds flow
O Earth, preserve us here below
O Earth, burning times you host
O Earth, the cool days seem a ghost

Friday, 29 May 2026

Difficult Decisions by John Henwood, 24/7 Magazine













Difficult Decisions: Policing, Polls and Popularity
By John Henwood
From 24/7 Magazine, 2006

The 24/7 magazine was launched in October 2005 and was a staple for Island entertainment news, events, and leisure listings and ceased publication in January 2011, following a strategic decision by its parent publisher, the Jersey Evening Post (JEP), to consolidate its lifestyle and entertainment coverage into a single monthly title called LifeStyle.

In his latest Look at public life in Jersey, John Henwood says it is time for our elected representatives to start making difficult decisions.

Shortly after he took up his post as Chief Officer of the States Police, Graham Power gave a short talk to a group of Institute of Directors members. In a fairly wide-ranging exchange after his address he was asked for his views on zero-tolerance policing, about which there was considerable publicity at the time.

Mr Power's response was that a zero-tolerance approach was only appropriate in circumstance where authorities had lost command of a situation and needed to win back control.

Fast forward to another business meeting, this time of members and guests of the Chamber of Commerce with Mr Power, now fully acclimatised to Jersey, again the speaker. Once more he was happy to take questions, one of which was about motoring: why did the police devote so much of their resources to relatively minor offences like speeding? Mr Power's answer was unequivocal; the police concentrate on matters that are important to the public and their surveys showed that the public was particularly concerned about speeding.

These two occasions came to mind recently following public debate about the alleged heavy-handedness of the policing of motorists over the Christmas and New Year holiday period and their apparent lack of success in curbing hooliganism and making the streets of St Helier safe to walk at night.

I am a little uneasy about the suggestion that the police marshal the use of their resources according to what is popular with the majority of us. Surely their task is to uphold the law and, in so doing, keep the community safe from the effects of wrongdoers. Inevitably there will be times when in so doing they have to take unpopular measures - well alright, for the greater good we accept that.

The question of police-run public surveys is also a cause for some concern. The problem with opinion polls is that you tend to get different answers depending on how you ask the questions. Indeed, it is not unheard of for organisations to decide upon a preferred agenda and justify it by framing a survey in such a way as to be most likely to get the answer required.

I'm not suggesting that this has happened, but in inexpert hands a survey can be an unreliable tool. If our police are going to deploy their resources according to the real wishes of the people I strongly suspect they will spend much more time, effort, manpower and money on making it safe to walk the streets of St Helier at night and tackling hooliganism and vandalism than on prosecuting speeding motorists.

Perhaps they would say they already do just that, but if so why is there a continuing perception that street violence is a growing problem and that it isn't too clever to be walking through certain parts of St Helier at night?

How much lawlessness of this kind has to be tolerated before a judgement is made that we are on the point of losing control and that possibly, just possibly, it's getting close to the time when the incidence of violent assaults and vandalism does call for a zero-tolerance approach?

The definition of government is a body of persons authorised to administer laws and rule or direct the state. In our case, as a democracy, we the people of Jersey have chosen those upon whom the responsibility for directing us and passing laws and regulations falls. Why then do our elected representatives so frequently insist on overlooking the authority we have vested in them by asking us what we want them to do?

The current trend started with in 1998 when the President of the Employment & Social Security Committee launched 'Fair Play in the Workplace'. It was the first time we had seen anything that looked like the equivalent of a UK Government green paper, in which plans for legislation were set out and all interested parties encouraged to offer their views. I was at the meeting at which the Committee's plans were spelled out and I remember welcoming the move and the openness of approach. Since then it seems no change is possible without lengthy and detailed consultation.

Now let me be quite clear, I'm all for consultation on matters of great significance which are likely to have a material el of the majority of the population. In the “Fair Play in the Workplace” it paved sweeping changes in our employment law. Whatever one thinks about the outcome, it would be unreasonable to criticise Employment and Security for failing to take the mind of the public before enacting changes to the way we employ and are employed. Similarly, we were consulted, almost to exhaustion, over to the island's fiscal strategy. Again, appropriate as the effects will be far-and felt by us all.

However, consultation is not an alternative form of government. Recently the Minister of Transport & Technical Services, Deputy Guy de Faye, announced that he would carry out a poll among all users of all the island's car parks to determine how they should pay. Within 24 hours the Minister of Planning & Environment, Senator Freddie Cohen, announced another round of consultation on the further development of the Waterfront.

Let's look first at the parking issue. The choice seems simple enough. either we stick with scratch cards or we go back to barriers and ticket machines. Some people prefer one method, some the other. It was ever thus. So what is the Minister going to learn apart from whether there might be some preference for one over the other? Sooner or later the Minister is going to have to make a decision; it is bound to be unpopular with some and no amount of consultation is going to change that fact. Instead of government by plebiscite I would encourage the Minister to go on and do what he was elected to do and make a decision!

As for the Waterfront, we have been in consultation over the way it should be developed for the best part of two decades and sometimes it feels as if each new round moves us one step back then one step forward. Perhaps that’s not surprising as a second generation of opinion is expressing their view. I don't know about anyone else, but I’m just about “consulted-out” on the topic Of course, the future of the Waterfront is hugely more important than the scratch card or barrier question but the principles remain the same. Government is there to govern and those who accept the burden of office should have the courage to use the authority we have given them.

Sunday, 24 May 2026

More Short Stories: Vigilia Pentecostes, Anno Domini 876



















Continuing my use of hymns as the seed for short stories, here is "Veni Creator Spiritus", or as it is more popularly known "Come, Holy Spirit, Creator blest". It is set in the Parish of St Mary. The year is 876. The theme is Pentecost.

The Chronicle of Brother Iudocus

Entry: Vigilia Pentecostes, Anno Domini 876

The sea mutters angrily tonight. I ponder St Paul and his shipwreck. Even from my narrow cell I hear it grinding against the rocks below the monastery of Our Lady. Brother Riwallon says the gulls fled inland at dusk, a sign he claims foretells danger. I laughed, as if to ward off the feelings of terror, but my heart was not steady.

We have prepared for the Feast of Pentecost. Brother Marcellus has arranged the altar linens; Brother Samsonius rehearsed the chant with the novices. Tomorrow we will sing “Veni Creator Spiritus”. May the Spirit shield us.

Entry: Pentecost Morning

We sang at dawn, our voices trembling the rafters the old words of the hymn. They rise like incense through the abbey - “Accende lumen sensibus… “, “Kindle our senses with Thy light”

As the final note faded, a thick sea‑mist rolled in swallowing the horizon. Our island is prone to such mists, cold and biting. This time, they seemed to be an omen, of dark times to come. When we stepped from the chapel, Riwallon came running, breathless. “Longships,” he said. “Three. Cutting through the fog.” Abbot Judicael closed his eyes for a moment, then said only: “To the chapel. Pray.”

I write this quickly. The bell is sounding the alarm. The mist feels like a burial shroud.

Later, though time has lost meaning...

I have only a dim memory of visions and sounds that overwhelmed the senses and destroyed our peaceful vigil. I recall the fire, the blazing tongues of fire. The screams, and the crash of axes. Words, rough, savage, spoken in an unknown tongue. They came like wolves. These were the Northmen, the Vikings, the much feared raiders of blood and iron.

We knelt in the chapel as Abbot Judicael prayed aloud, his voice shaking but unbroken. The doors burst inward. Brother Riwallon fell first, struck down where he knelt. I saw his blood spread across the stones like spilled ink across a manuscript. The Abbot was dragged outside. I followed, though terror clawed at my belly. The courtyard was a furnace. Flames devoured the scriptorium. Smoke stung my eyes.

Their leader, clothed in furs, a giant in wolfskin, raised his axe over Judicael. I heard myself shout the words from the hymn: “Hostem repellas longius!”, “Drive the foe far from us!”

The fire was thick with smoke, and it was hard to see. Only outlines of shapes moving could be seen. One of the raiders stumbled into the blow meant for the Abbot. The axe split his helm. Confusion erupted, shouts, curses, a moment’s chaos. We fled toward the cliffs, dragging the wounded. Judicael collapsed in my arms. His last words: “The light, Iudocus… the light must not die…” I wept bitterly at our loss.

Entry: The Morning After

Dawn revealed only ashes. The chapel roof is gone. The scriptorium is a blackened skeleton. The relics, our precious fragments of saints, are lost. The golden chalice and the silver communion plate have been stolen by the raiders. We buried Abbot Judicael beneath the charred stones, and carved a figure on a granite stone to mark the place. We few who remain sang softly over his grave: “Deo Patri sit gloria…”, “To God the Father be glory…”. But we have lost our own dear Father Abbot, and our voices cracked with smoke and grief.

Already the brothers call this place the Burnt Monastery of our Lady. A fitting name, though it wounds me to write it.

Entry: One Week After the Burning

We have begun clearing the ruins. The air still smells of soot. Yet today, beneath a fallen beam, I found a single page of parchment from the Psalter, the edges scorched and black but the words intact: “ Dominus lux mea et salus mea.”, “The Lord is my light and my salvation.”

The Vikings destroyed only wood and stone. The light remains. We can rekindle the flame and rebuild, and pray that one day those Norse men will come to know Christ, and their tongue will no longer be unknown. A church will be built by them, and perhaps as a sign of repentance, they will call it “St Mary of the Burnt Monastery”.

Let these words stand as witness to the fire, the terror, the blood, but also the Spirit who did not abandon us. We will gather again, and for now, as at Pentecost, we learn the message of those words of wisdom and consolation, those of the frightened disciples in the upper room so many years so. Wait and hope.

Saturday, 23 May 2026

Caiaphas' Lament



















This is a poem about the gospel story, but with a difference, it is taken from the viewpoint of  Caiaphas, the High Priest.

Caiaphas' Lament

I learned of him, a murmur like a breeze
Beginning one day. It seemed his abilities
Grew, and word spread around, crowds came:
The poor, the sick, the possessed, the lame;
All followed him, and there were also near
Followers, twelve disciples, now did appear.
And I did nothing, watching, biding my time,
Until he might perchance commit a crime
Against our Roman overlords. But not to be,
Until at length I had to stretch out, to see
What account he would give. So I contrived
To hand him over for execution, and strived
To wipe him out, to destroy all the rabble
Who followed him, who now did scrabble
To condemn, to call to Pilate for his death
With crucifixion, suffocation, loss of breath;
And I thought that would be the end. But then
I heard against all reason, that some women
Had seen him, then the men too told a tale
Of how he had returned, how he did prevail
Even against death. Yet still he was a man
Limited to one place at a time, in this span
He was bound. But then I came now to hear
That which I dreaded, which caused most fear,
That he was no longer bound, but ascended
Beyond our world. Now it will not be ended,
Because he is everywhere, not in one place,
But in all places, not with but one visible face
But with many faces, as he comes to greet
All who welcome him, them does he meet.
And I have failed, for on the day of Pentecost,
I listened, in fear and rage, learning I had lost,
Heard his Spirit speak to each and every nation,
Bringing life and hope, and joy and salvation.

Friday, 22 May 2026

Memories of Le Riches, Red Houses














It is hard to remember now, but the Le Riches building was demolished and rebuilt as "Checkers", part of the Sandpiper group. They had a Waitrose franchise, and then eventually, the store was wholly taken over by the Waitrose chain.

Le Riches Stores Limited was one of Jersey’s most historic brands, dating back to a grocery shop opened in 1818. Over the generations, it grew to dominate local commerce, establishing supermarkets and department stores across the island, including prominent hubs like the Red Houses Department Store in St. Brelade.



















Responding to the UK's massive shift toward out-of-town supermarkets, Le Riches launched its own local superstore format in 1993, called Checkers. The larger, modern Checkers locations at Rue des Pres (St. Saviour) and Red Houses (St. Brelade) replaced older Le Riches structures.

In the 2000s, the parent company merged and evolved, eventually being acquired by SandpiperCI. Sandpiper maintained the Checkers superstores and used them to introduce UK-branded goods to islanders. For a couple of years, Sandpiper actually ran a supply agreement where Waitrose own-label products were sold on Checkers shelves.

This franchise trial paved the way for a permanent change. In 2010–2011, Sandpiper sold its entire large-supermarket division directly to the John Lewis Partnership. The final Checkers super-stores closed their doors for good in early 2011. The properties were completely refitted and opened as the Waitrose branches that islanders use today at Red Houses and Rue des Pres. Curiously there are still at least one Checkers store still open. And the checkered brick design is still present in the Red Houses underground car park.

The Upper Level: This floor was designed as a destination for services and leisure. It hosted the hairdresser, dentist, and a café where locals met for coffee. The toy department on this floor was a major attraction for local children, especially during the holidays.

We used to go there regularly with our young children, especially on rainy days, usually to enjoy coffee and tea cakes, while the kids had soft drinks and rusks, and later tea cakes. There is nothing like a buttered tea cake! Toys were an added occasional bonus if the children were good!

We also took our son Martin (who is autistic) to the hairdresser when they were not quite so busy as back then it was easier than a more noisy and longer waiting time at a barber. The hairdresser (Debbie?) later moved to Industria House ground floor (over the road at Red Houses).

Upstairs for a time was the offices of National Westminster bank, where as I student, I opened my very first bank account and saw the Bank Manager. Nowadays that moniker has long gone out of fashion, replaced by various "Financial Directors"  but in its day, that personal touch counted. The main bank with counters was at Les Quennevais Precinct, until it closed. The legacy of the bank remains in the cash point machine at Waitrose.

The Ground Level: This floor focused on high-traffic retail. It featured a dedicated travel agent, a record department for music lovers, and the original food hall.



















I think the travel agent was Troys. The record department had lots of LPs and in my early 20s, I used to spend many a happy half hour browsing seeing what was there - ABBA, Kate Bush, the Carpenters and many more. Those were the days of 33 1/3 rpm long playing records - vinyl, now making a come back, and the record sleeves art work or photographic montages were also often amazing. I also bought some 45rmp singles. All gone now, which is a shame, as vinyl is making a comeback.

I nearly forgot - the Post Office! The postmaster was a rather grumpy fellow who tended to make hours more to suit himself that the customer. I remember dashing over from my work place at 3.50 pm to make it before he closed at 4.00 pm. Sadly he had already shut shop early.














The foodhall was fairly small and always had an odd smell around the cheese counter which suggested some of the French cheese was rather over ripe.















The original food hall occupied only a fraction of the ground floor. When the building was demolished, the new Checkers structure consolidated all those scattered specialty departments into a single, massive, open-plan supermarket floor.

I remember being volunteered for a Lions Club trolly dash - going round with a number of pensioners, and grabbing as much stuff as they wanted off the shelves. It was rather fun. My work (a firm of accountants) was on the top floor of Centre Point across the road (where M&S is now, but had before we moved in a light fittings sales area above the House of Jerome on the ground floor).

Back in the day, they also had their own brand carrier bags! I took some to University.