Angela Rayner’s latest mea culpa over her tax affairs is a masterclass in political theatre: a tearful confession, a convenient villain (“bad legal advice”), and a dash of humblebrag about being a hard-up mum just trying to get by. But let’s be honest: it’s total nonsense.
Another week, another lachrymose confessional from Angela Rayner, the self-styled tribune of the people, now ensnared on the horns of that most unforgiving Minotaur… taxation. No beery soirées in Durham, no misfiled sales forms this time. Just the Revenue, demanding its pound of flesh.
Yes, the Deputy Prime Minister has now admitted she didn’t pay the full whack of stamp duty on her spanking new £800,000 seaside bolthole in Hove. And how does she explain this little fiscal faux pas? By blaming, naturally, that most convenient of scapegoats: “bad advice.”
One almost pictures it: a mysterious legal oracle materialising in a puff of smoke like the Wizard of Oz, thundering from behind a velvet curtain that she need not pay a penny more. Did this apparition really just pop up uninvited, bestowing unsolicited discounts on stamp duty? Of course not. Ms Rayner went out, found a lawyer, and paid for precisely the advice she wanted.
And lo! The advice was miraculously aligned with her financial interests. Until, of course, the press came knocking and the spell was broken. Then, and only then, did Ms Rayner clutch her pearls, dab her eyes, and tell us she was “devastated” to learn she owed an extra £40,000, plus interest and possibly penalties.
Now, let us not forget the wider context. This was no humble terrace in Ashton-under-Lyne. This was an £800,000 property on the Sussex Riviera, purchased with the help of a deposit conveniently liberated from the family home via a trust. That home, incidentally, is still counted as hers for tax purposes because her children are beneficiaries. HMRC’s manuals make this clear enough to be understood by any diligent sixth-former, let alone the Deputy Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.
And yet, here she is, professing shock. “I thought I’d done everything properly,” she sobbed to Sky News. Millions of ordinary taxpayers, whose only interaction with the Revenue is the sickening thwack of a brown envelope on the doormat, might be forgiven for feeling a little less sympathetic.
For them, there are no wizards to blame, no magical curtains to hide behind. If they are a penny short, HMRC comes down with all the grace of a falling piano. Ignorance, as the guidance plainly says, is no defence.
But in Rayner’s world, a world of three homes, three council tax bills, three different stories about where she actually lives, everything is mutable, everything negotiable. Up north, she is the salt-of-the-earth single mum. In London, she is the grande dame of Admiralty House. In Hove, she is sipping cappuccinos by the Channel, £3,900 a month in mortgage repayments merrily debited.
What does this say about Labour’s moral compass? This is the party that used to rail against privilege, that used to claims to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the working poor. Nothing could these days be further from the truth. Labour’s deputy leader has now been caught out massaging her property portfolio in a way that would make even the most hardened buy-to-let landlord blush.
The truth is as clear as a Brighton morning: this is not leadership, it is legerdemain. Not contrition, but choreography.
The British public are a forgiving lot. They will tolerate mistakes if they are admitted promptly and honestly. What they cannot abide is the slow, grinding revelation that their leaders are playing by a different set of rules.
So yes, Angela Rayner may yet pay her dues, the £40,000 surcharge, the interest, perhaps even a penalty. But the real debt is political, and it is growing fast.
Because in politics, as in housing, it is not enough to have a glossy new façade. What matters is the foundation. And if you build on evasions and excuses, don’t be surprised when the whole edifice comes crashing down.
Main Image: Official cabinet portrait of Angela Rayner. Source: Simon Dawson / No10 Downing Street
