Money

As every single one of my friends – and their spouses – is a tasteful soul, it goes without saying that every wedding I have ever attended has been the last word in elegance. You do hear things, though. Of Balham-based chartered accountants behaving like Victorian land magnates by renting stately homes for their nuptials. Of multi-venue events in five-star resorts by the lapping shores of the Mediterranean Sea. Of women having to buy, rent and borrow ten dresses for the summer that makes up wedding season. I could go on. So I am not surprised to read that one in three people is now turning down wedding invitations because they’ve become so expensive.

Money is a pagan god because it has value only as long as people believe it does. Refuse to believe, and the value disappears. In the 3rd century ad, the Roman empire was under intense pressure, and emperors resorted to increasing taxes and debasing coinage to fund its protection. The result was terrifying inflation. Cash became worthless. Soldiers refused to be paid in it and the state to accept tax in it. So ‘requisitioning of supplies’ – goods, materials, labour – became, in effect, taxation ‘in kind’ to pay for the military; and the army plundered at random to ‘collect’ it. The emperor Diocletian rationalised the system by organising this requisitioning of supplies into a coherent tax scheme.

This Middle East conflict ought to be much easier than the oil embargo which followed the Yom Kippur war of 1973. The Arabs came quite close to winning, whereas Iran has no chance. The embargo, imposed on all countries, including Britain, which had supported Israel in the war, was backed by almost all Arab states, few of which were fanatically Islamist, and by the Soviet Union. It lasted for six months. America depended on Saudi Arabia alone for 25 per cent of its oil (only a bit over 5 per cent of imports today). The price rose by 400 per cent. The economic disruption was massive. In 2026, by contrast, almost all Middle Eastern states detest Iran and want their oil to flow without let or hindrance. There is plenty of money and power in the world to reopen the Strait of Hormuz.

If, like me, your tailor of choice is the British Heart Foundation or Save the Children, it is beginning to feel like the end of days. Old people are still dying, their wardrobes still being emptied into bin bags – but we vultures are being starved of their corduroy carrion. Charity shops are in crisis. Scope has shut more than 50 stores this year already. Two more – in Beverley and Fleet – are closing this week. Taunton, Portsmouth, Skipton and Bangor are all completely Scopeless. The Charity Retail Association (CRA) is gloomy, explaining that the British Heart Foundation, Barnardo’s, Oxfam and Cancer Research UK – the big four – have all been struggling to maintain healthy sales.

News from the High Pay Centre – the revolutionary guard of left-wing thinktanks – that average FTSE100 chief executive pay rose 16 per cent to a record £5.9 million for 2024-25 comes as a double blessing for Rachel Reeves. On the one hand, she can cite executive greed as a pretext for her forthcoming autumn tax raid, while at the same time claiming that if rewards are soaring, then business conditions under Labour can’t be as bad as boardroom whingers say. On the other, she can rejoice that each UK-domiciled boss is contributing to the Exchequer a sum roughly equal to the tax take from 440 average earners. Meanwhile, is the near-£6 million benchmark justified in itself?