Pay As You earn, or PAYE, is the mechanism through which most people pay tax on their income in the UK. It is deducted from source by employers, who forward collected money to HM Revenue & Customs (HMRC).
Not everyone is paid this way. In the decade prior to their liquidation, Rangers paid 53 players over £33m through Employee Benefit Trusts (EBTs). They paid owner, Sir David Murray, and manager, Alex McLeish through trusts, and also paid then-Blackburn Rovers manager, Graeme Souness, and then-Everton manager, Walter Smith, through EBTs.
Former players still involved in the game, or in the media, received pay through EBTs, including Billy Dodds, Steven Thompson, Neil McCann, Kris Boyd, Alex Rae and Barry Ferguson, the latter pocketing a clear £2.5m.
HMRC have instructed recipients to contact them in order to make plans to pay tax on this income. The money received is regarded by HMRC as a net figure, tax and National Insurance contributions will be added onto this, almost certainly always at the top rate. Then penalties and interest will be added. Players like Peter Lovenkrands will have to find money to top up the £902k he received.
Players received a letter from Rangers agreeing to underwrite any tax liability that resulted in them agreeing to take a portion of their remuneration in this way. Unfortunately, that agreement perished when Rangers went into liquidation.
No one likes paying taxes, but it funds healthcare, social services, housing, roads, police and even the monarchy and armed forces. What happened was a disgrace.
The club paid the ultimate price, with supporters going through incessant humiliations. The directors of Rangers at the time, including David Murray, most recent past SFA president and another EBT recipient, Campbell Ogilvie, and Dave King, men who were paid to look after the interests of the club, its staff, supporters and creditors, were never asked to account for bringing the game into disrepute by the SFA.
The chief puppeteer should be sine died from our game.
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Any way
2 good results Thursday and Sunday should keep us happy for a while
Anyway….bed time for me.
WITS- THE MOUSSE WILL DESTROY THEMS……BUT WE NEED FORREST TO TURN UP AND PLAY….
No excuses for capitals……copy and paste and we will enjoy it on Sunday HH
BB
We need 11 to turn up and perform. Starting tomorrow night please
YNWA
Thursday even. :)
DD
Who the feck are we playing tomorrow night? Is it on the card?
Hail Hail
Matt
MS
Getting excited about Celtic match prematurely:)
WITS
I agree with you that AEK were the better team.
We of course trounced them in both legs at purposeless possession.
For all our possession their goalie did not have much to do in either game.
They were better prepared to win.
Matt Stewart.. Engrossing man. Some of your descriptions are brilliant and hilarious man. Looking forward to the next instalment. Hail Hail
Rich
You lucky lucky people…….Part 6……
Fifty five minutes later in ‘Lovers’ alley’ – Paisley Road West
Charlie Dunne and Hughie McGee were out of their normal East End territory. The local smells of je ne sais quoi, a sort of mixture of burnt greasy kebab and an overuse of essence of goat made the eyes sting but it helped as a constant reminder to be on guard and maintain radio silence.
With dusk now as an additional blanket Charlie surveyed the cunning place of concealment “Hide in plain view indeed, always the safest, Feckin hell, we’ve planned this mission well” he thought as he sat inside the suitably packed out bin bag.
“You all right Hughie?” he whispered.
Hughie nodded, leaving Charlie none the wiser. Mind you he knew that everything was OK after all there had been no mass riot which would have been the case. In fact there had been nothing of any note since they had been dropped off by their mates in the corpy. No-one was going to bother about a couple of bin bags among another fifty.
Charlie convinced himself and then worried again. Even in this impenetrable disguise he was on guard, avant garde and wearing right guard. He lived on the edge of a serrated anxiety, a fact that had saved him many a time and he knew that the most dangerous moments came as the head sunk into the comforting pillow of complacency.
This foray behind enemy lines however was special, terminally dangerous if uncovered and therefore had involved training that bordered on torture. Yoga, statues, breath-holding, water-boarding, mind over matter to cast off the agony of cramps, holding in a pee or worse to bladder or intestinal bursting point. They were at their peak now, ready, honed and sharp as tax man on the trail of a disqualified director.
No slip ups, no sudden movements, just act like all the other bin bags. If they got it wrong they could easily be mistaken for one of the local girls of the night, who had just nipped round the bins for a pee or toley. That was all they needed, the unwantyed preternatural sexual urges of the local menfolk on the pull in the midden. . The danger was palpable.(add awe bit re if mistaken until after being ravished)
But danger was Charlie’s second name and anyway they had to find out what exactly had taken place behind the stygian walls of Edmiston drive. The future of the humane world might depend upon it. It was up to the Goddess to get the information from the *un and although Charlie had every confidence that she would he had to be on hand if anything went wrong and his prize spy fell into the evil clutches of the bug-eyed mastermind of Kinning Park; even more importantly however Charlie’s antennae of suspicion were rarely lowered and word had come to him that not all was well in his own camp. There was a spy hidden in the seemingly faithful brigade of followers; right at the heart of the movement sat a wee jobbie and Charlie now had to check out every strand, every volunteer, every message, every cell for himself.
Yes danger was his middle name but the burden of responsibility could only sit well on broad shoulders and Charlie had no qualms of hunching himself inside a black bin liner up an alley behind enemy lines.
He and Hughie listened intently to the shenanigans on the other side of the slogan daubed or in this case ‘dobbed’ wall.
Things were getting fraught for the Goddess.
“Whit dae ye want tae know about whit happened in the grun the night anyway?” mumbled the *un staring again at her heaving dress Stewart tartan cheese cloth shirt with added ripples that leant an additional beat of life to an already pulsating body and put an even greater strain on his own XXXL jeans which now seemed to be all too small. “Come on, we didn’t come down the lane for you to play the tease all night did we. Feck the meeting earlier. Let’s get down to a bit of man and woman wrestling”.
The Goddess giggled and kept her cool. She kept reminding herself that she was on a mission and he was a *un, albeit a fairly good looking one with a V shaped body, tight bum and a soft caress that was on the verge of relegating her objective to second place behind her biological imperative.
She bit her bottom lip, stretched her arms in a sort of lithe, athletic button popping way and replied…. “Aw come on, you know that I am not interested in what happened in there. This is my wee game for the night….you know my little Pavlovian Shitzu. You want a reward then you have to perform a task to order. What was it last week, you had to learn, point out and name the major constellations of stars in the sky and you done it and I bought you a kebab. Now I won’t understand anything that went on at your meeting, but if you want a ‘special’ warm, wet, inviting reward just give me a wee clue and I will try and decode it for you. If I am right then I get my reward and believe me when you hear what my reward is well all I can say babe is you will love it and you will be part of it, here now, and for as long as you like.”
The *un was now burning like a pig on a spit and to be fair the Goddess wasn’t far behind him, she had just had more practice than him at this, she was quite looking forward to him spilling the beans before she spilt hers.
At first she had faced up to that largest of all questions “How far would a Goddess go with a Devil to get the inside story?” She hadn’t been able to answer it but now as she found herself subject to the urgings of her hormones and if ever hormones had been urged hers certainly had, she was starting to shift uncomfortably in her mind but even more uncomfortably in her jeans.
As for the *un….he was approaching lift off.
He could see stalemate sitting between them. The negotiation was now complete; the bargaining pendulum had come to a rest. Each opening gambit had been unacceptable – that was ever the case with opening gambits – and with a gradual whittling away the final take it or leave it sat like Lady Macbeth’s dagger hovering between them. HIS cool calm cocky demeanour was shattered now. His expectancy had been reduced to what he would never have entertained; at first it had become a starter for ten; then it was reduced to a minimum; but now it had taken on the tumescent ecstasy of a triumph. He was resigned; he was ready; he would be triumphant.
But the decision wasn’t only his. SHE would be the final arbiter. Only SHE could make that final stark decision. It had lain in wait for so long like a careless mugger. Now it had stepped out of the shadows and in her cleverness she had maneuvered it into a corner; and now that mugger made his final demand clear and confronted her very soul.
She was no longer in control as the shadows of the night wafted across her face, masking at first and then revealing the expectant urgency of his eyes. She flicked her hair back, a false smile becoming a determined conviction.
Her mind had been made up.
It may have been a huge sacrifice for her personally but the greater good, the survival of civilisation, the eternal rocking cradle surely had to take priority. With this one sickening forfeit she knew that the information would be forthcoming.
Civilisation depended on her getting this information. The future of so many unsuspecting victims lay on the tip of her tongue and the gentle warm caress of her lips. He would tell her everything, all she had to do was kiss a hun and the secret would be hers.
She threw her head back ready to make the move when he broke…..
“OK OK….they talked nonsense. Just numbers and a story of a Ouija board. Numbers about the past, obvious ones like 1690, 1873, 1207. What he called the defining number of the present…42,000 and 49million and most of all the numbers that would define the future of the world 11,000 and 78 million. ”
The Goddess knew he was telling the truth and as she could feel her own dam straining she steeled herself, knowing that even as she offered herself to the gates of hell, if he tried tongues she would either bite very hard or be sick. She closed her eyes and thought of Jinky, Henrik and that one unforgettable moment in La Paz then in her mind’s eye she reached and grabbed the disgusting dagger of doom (metaphorically of course!).
Urgent writhing exploration and explosive relief are such inadequate words at times.
Over the wall, Charlie and Hughie were spellbound, or at least Charlie was. He had heard the words and he too understood what they meant. He was just about to call out to Hughie when he felt a pitter patter against his bin bag.
Aty first he thought it was rain and then as a gentle warmth penetrated the PCV he stood up tearing the covering and shouted feck of ya durtyy town fox, pishing on my heid’.
But it wasn’t a fox, it was Hughie who couldn’t control his baldder for any longer and had just nipped oput of his cover for a pish.
In the dark he hadn’t realised that he was peeing on Charlie.
“Ya feckin eejit, Hughie”
“Sorry Charlie”
But the commotion had alerted the *un and the Goddess over the wall who immediately stopped their philanderings and had also resulted in lights coming on in kitchens and doorways all down the alley,
“That’s feckin Charlie Dunne, that wee fenian git. Oy Dunne feck off or we’ll be takin an axe tae ye. “
Some had already grabbed whatever offensive implements they could lay their hands on and were sallying forth, hoovers, knives, hairdryers, broom handles, and cucumbers raised in anger.
Charlie and Hughie got off their marks, headed for the alley exit and a left turn towards the Kingston Bridge. They had to get onto the main drag before they were caught up in a pincer movement. They were only 10 yards from safety when the screech of tyres, the blast of a warning horn and the blinding beam of a camouflage land rover announced the arrival of a van full of mean looking bad bastards.
“We’ll deal wae these two feckin clowns” get back tae yer hooses. Nae names no pack drill. No witnesses no charges, nae bodies nae murders.”
The black hoods were thrown over Charlie and Hughies heads and they were roughly thrown in the back of the land rover.
The van done a u-turn headed back towards Govan and then turned into an old deserted shipyard.
Pulled from the van again, they were forced to kneel.
“We could make it quick or we could make it slow.” Said the main man.
“We’ll be sayin feck all” said Charlie.
“OK” said the assailant “We’ll make it quick”
And then it happened. Hughie pulled himself to his feet. “It’ll be the last thing you ever do. Do you know who we are?”
“We know who he is. You are just some wee inconsequential hanger on.”
“Listen ya feckin eejit. I’m Hughie McGhee – That’s Mcghee wae an ‘H’!”
It was Charlie’s turn now.
“Well done lads. We’ve found our traitor”
TBC
Hail Hail
Matt
Fan a Tic
I thought that we were just a wee bit shitier than the Greeks over two legs. Two horrendous games of fitba in truth.
YNWA
DELANEYS DUNKY
Ha ha thats one way to put it.
They carried a threat and we did not.
We did pass amongst ourselves a lot though.
Right Part seven the morra….Mexico…..Got to sleep and rest ma piles…they’re sticking out so far I’ve given them all names.
Hail Hail
Matt
There are two types of dude’s in this world.
There are those who spit it out
then, there are those, who suck it up.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz
I think there may be a 3rd kind of dude
setting free the bears for Res. 12 & Oscar Knox on 29th August 2018 12:56 am
I think there may be a 3rd kind of dude
————
There’s a 4th kind as well,
plus what about the 50% of the population who are not dudes, can’t leave them out of crazy Kev’s fantasy :O)
Good morning friends from clear skies sun kissed Javea. There’s an oft used saying on here “Ive never met a bad CQNr” and I can now extend that to those who just lurk – had a fantastic afternoon yesterday in nearby Denia with Mr and Mrs John C who hosted me and Mrs Baldie for drinks and lunch. You really should post, John; this site needs as many proper good guys as possible. Will keep my ears and eyes open for any TV coverage for Thursday night and let you kbow if I find anything.
And just 1 more sleep (plus a couple of potential siestas) till we qualify for Europe.
Jobo
Glad you met up with J & P
Nice family and good fun , and a great pub/restaurant. They look after my dad very well.
The game is on Celtic TV so you should get it in a pub as you are overseas
I really hope no one at Celtic Park is paying any attention to the OF guff that is building. Big, big game tomorrow night.
Matt
Excellent stuff over last few days mate
KTF
Good morning CQN from a beautiful morning in the Garngad
Bring on theSuds then the Fuds
HH
D. :)
Good morning all from Gallus Govanhill.
Sounds like a Roman General. ?
Come on Celtic , we need a couple of players to bolster our team/squad
2 or 3 COYBIG
HH
D. :)
Morning Tims…
How many teams in for Moussa the day then?..
H.H
With Morelos being the striker in form at present surely the MSSM will be all over the multi-billion bids arriving for him from China? Especially with the media works team playing Celtic at the weekend.
If you are Peter Lawwell ( or whoever is negotiating transfers with Phil casting doubt yesterday) would you be on the phone to EPL clubs who asked to be kept informed re Dembele saying Lyon are up near the asking price and can we agree a deal to beat that to let him go in January?
If you are Dembele would you want to go to Lyon or stay? Chances are Dembele would only go to a select few EPL sides given the chance. Arsenal, Man U, Spurs, Man City, Liverpool. Of those only the London clubs would go in.
The chances of us spending the income? Zero.
Selling him in this window gets us the same level of Turnover as the past June 17 to June 18 figures.
If we sell him I would expect McKenna and perhaps two loans and that’s if Aston Villa don’t make an offer to bring in on loan with a purchase in January.
Wonder if James McCarthy would be a risk to take on loan.
Yousouf Mulumbu been made offers both sides of the border.
I’m really surprised Rangers haven’t made an offer again for Jordan Jones after Murphy got injured.
‘Celtic braced for Dembele bids’
Ahh the old we signed nobody but managed to keep Dembele routine.
Selling Moussa to top up the balance sheet would be the final straw for Brendan and many supporters. If Moussa is gone by Saturday morning Brendan will be away by the end of the season at the latest. You don’t need to be rocket scientist to work out which is of bigger value to the Club unless you are trying to undermine the Manager.
Its too late in the window to be selling Dembele, even if our price is matched by a French club and the player wants to go. Surely our crack recruitment/transfer negotiation team are speaking to the agents of Dembele, and Boyata, and telling them they can go for £xm but any deal needs to be completed by an agreed date a lot earlier in August otherwise there will be no sale. That gives us a chance to get an adequate replacement and not a Shane Long (rumour) panic buy!!
Shane Long ???
DAVID17,
I think Celtic need to sell Dembele but getting the price we deserve is another matter.
The guy is great but I don’t think he will reach his potential with us. He looks as though he is playing in second gear most of the time. Don’t know if he is protecting his hamstrings or whatever but it looks to me that he is holding back some power. I have seen glimpses of it in games v Man City and others in Europe to know there is more there.
It’s very possible that he could stay, put a couple past Rangers and do well in the Europa and inflate his price but Dembele will always appear at the top of the list as expected to be sold at any time. We would need a replacement though and I am not sure we are in the best shape to get an adequate guy who could slot in with our other 2 strike contenders.
Wouldn’t be surprised if Rodgers saw something in an SPL striker he could develop.
I’m hearing Dembele is going South and Louis Moult is coming North.
Only In my paranoid mind though.
Although that might be as good as this window gets………
Matt Stewart @ 11.29
Top Blogging
HH
The transfer silence from Celtic Park is deafening, however there are one or two on here very keen to sell Moussa! I wonder why?
Louis Moult? Rather have Ted Moult.
Word of The Day
Fortitude (fawr-ti-tood, -tyood)
noun
1. mental and emotional strength in facing difficulty, adversity, danger, or temptation courageously
2. strength and firmness of mind; resolute endurance.
Derived Forms
fortitudinous, adjective
Word Origin and History for fortitude
n.
early 15c., from Middle French fortitude, from Latin fortitudo “strength, force, firmness,” from fortis “strong, brave” (see fort).
KTF