VATupdate Newsletter Week 26 2025

HUMPS

Camels are weird. Not cute-weird like platypuses, but full-on, evolved-on-another-planet weird. They have humps that store fat, not water; they can survive losing a quarter of their body weight in moisture; and they drink water so efficiently that they can gulp up 40 litres in ten minutes without blinking—mostly because their eyelids are built for sandstorms. Three of them, in fact.

And that’s not even the wildest part. Camels can eat thorny bushes without flinching. Their leathery lips and strong mouth structure allow them to chew sharp material without injury, and their saliva is so acidic it can break down dry desert plants and probably your average office chair. They’re also known to hold grudges. For years. Camels remember faces—and not always fondly.

Their ability to drink saltier water than most mammals puts them in a league of their own. No, not Dead Sea levels of saltiness, but definitely water that other animals would not survive if they would drink from it. And yet, with all this biological over-engineering, they walk with the casual swagger of an animal that has absolutely nothing to prove. The camel doesn’t hustle. The camel waits. Patiently. Suspiciously.

VAT, like the camel, is an improbable construct that just… works. Kind of. Against all odds, it trudges through fiscal deserts, regulates commerce, and handles the thorny transactions most systems wouldn’t take a bite from. Like camels, it has evolved to survive in environments of scarcity and complexity: patchy data, multiple jurisdictions, conflicting interpretations.

And let’s not forget the humps. VAT systems carry weight. Not just revenue collection, but fraud prevention, trade neutrality, and cross-border coordination. A well-designed VAT regime stores its complexity neatly in those humps—ready to release efficiency and stability when needed. But if you overload it with illogical exemptions, contradictory rules, or outdated legacy quirks… it spits.

Also, like camels, VAT remembers. Or at least, tax authorities do. You may think that one small error in a transaction three years ago has faded into the sands of time—but the VAT camel has logged it, indexed it, and is waiting for the next audit to bring it up with unsettling clarity.

So, what’s the takeaway here? If you’re going to survive in VATland, think like a camel. Store your energy, protect your paperwork like thick eyelashes in a sandstorm, and never assume the system will forget your past mistakes. Or as Terry Pratchett might have put it: VAT is just maths, grudges, and sand—and the camel is its spirit animal. Just don’t name it “You Bastard” in your audit trail.

And for a daily dose of VAT survival tactics (with or without sandstorms): visit VATupdate.com.

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