Earlier this year, two distinguished gentlemen, Judge Hyde and his adviser Julian Stafford, sampled a mineral-enriched flapjack — alas, a year past its sell-by date — and pondered its qualities. (Flapjacks are slabs of oats stuck together with a glue made of butter, sugar and syrup.) The question: was this unconventional flapjack, designed as a pre-exercise snack, “of a standard to be served to guests as a treat with afternoon tea”?
Much turns on the answer, since the enriched flapjack hovers in the liminal space between a muesli bar, which, in the UK, attracts value added tax at 20 per cent, and an ordinary flapjack, which, by long-hallowed British tradition, is a cake and, therefore, zero rated for VAT purposes.
I am serious about the long-hallowed tradition. His Majesty’s Revenue & Customs notes that “at the inception of VAT, traditional flapjacks were widely accepted as cakes of common perception”. When HMRC drew the line between cake and confectionery, it nodded through the idea of flapjacks-as-cakes because to insist otherwise would be to incite a revolution.