Anton Coaker, our South West blogger's, latest posting:
There’s much gnashing of teeth about threats to cut benefits to rioters. The political right see it as vote winner, appeasing the broadsheet readers, while the left shout that the Prime Minister is showing his upper crust, spoiled background colours.
I’m not that exercised by the whole business myself – my solutions to such issues are so far off the starboard bow that I can only just glimpse Norman Tebbit and Ghengis Khan somewhere in the fog back toward the centre line – but it did get me thinking about my own situation.
As you may be aware, the government kindly sees fit to bestow upon my colleagues and I, various payments. Call them subsidies if you will, although I know Anthony keeps telling me they’re not. The bottom line is that my bottom line depends on them. Like just about every other hill farmer in the land, my livestock enterprise wouldn’t stand up if it couldn’t access these payments. With them, and a fair wind, I might be able to show something on the right side of the balance. But things aren’t so clever in a year when I’m unable to sell cattle because we’re down with TB, inputs have jumped and the payments have all been set back most of a year because...well, I haven’t quite grasped why the payments have all been deferred (perhaps the Greek bailout is the problem).
Anyway. The payments we receive keep the ship afloat, and are pretty much entirely recycled within the immediate, or wider community. However, and here’s the relevant bit, the rules and penalties which come with these payments make a bit of a fine for lobbing a brick through a Dixons window look like small beer.
As I have already alluded, getting lippy with the ‘TB proliferation department’ will put me on the wrong side of a very heavy penalty. Fall foul of the immensely complex movements restrictions, sheep electro-tagging rules, or fail to correctly transcribe every detail of mind bogglingly complex data, and I could equally be for the high jump. Depending on which side the inspector gets out of bed, there might be no margin for error at all.
Some examples? One gentleman farmer of my acquaint, in his seventies, made a slip-up writing the wrong holding numbers down when he was registering calves - he has 2 different parcels of land, each with separate holding numbers. As far as I’m aware, there was no benefit in his doing this, it was simply an error. Bear in mind each calf has its own 14 digit serial number, and must bear an approved tag in each ear both showing this number, as well as being registered to the correct 9 digit holding number. The man's mistake, noticed upon inspection, resulted in a hefty fine.
Another farmer I know cleared out the last 39 hogs (yearling fattening sheep) a couple of springs ago. He correctly did the movement forms (in triplicate), and returned the retained copy to the farmhouse. Unfortunately, his good lady made up the record book at home from the info returned from the abattoir, not noticing that one of the hogs was condemned for having a wonky leg. She entered the 38 shown on the payment details, rather than the 39 actually sent. The mistake was obvious, easily identified, and clearly of no benefit to the family, or even consequence to anyone. Result? Another hefty penalty.
My own dear put upon wife struggles daily with the paperwork, made no simpler by my insistence that I continue to incompetently run a few hundred geriatric sheep on the hill, and feed a hundred cows and their progeny. We enjoyed an inspection backalong, which revealed Johns pet ewe – which he raised on the bottle before and after skool- had travelled to Widecombe Fair. Sadly, the paperwork didn’t show it had returned. Seemingly, loading up the truck at the end of a long day, with 3 fractious children, 2 ponies, one pet ewe and a ‘tired and emotional’ husband, my secretary failed to notice we had no return form, triplicate or otherwise. Result? A fine of several hundred pounds.
I understand that such heinous offences against the state will be held in account, should we commit further atrocities, and subsequent penalties escalate steeply. Frighteningly so, given that the cows and sheep will already be here, eating their way through the payment before we ever know we’ve blown it.
I’m not going to live in fear, and should add that many inspectors prove genuinely helpful, wishing only to see us continue to farm the land much as we always have. And I am not ungrateful for the assistance the state offers. Far from it.
However, the idea of having my ‘dole’ cut, not for hurling a Molotov cocktail at police lines, or engaging in a spot of looting, but rather for failing to keep up with regulations so pointlessly piled upon us strikes me as a bit off. I rather doubt if it’s what you the taxpayer envisage either, come to that. What shall we do about it?
Right, I’m back to dipping sheep and fettling the cattle pens ready for yet more TB testing.
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