Rust & Resonance

(mmmmm) Two employers in the ledger,

one dead month between.

N-able till October, then a gap nobody's seen.

November brought a new desk and a code that looked the same

— and every pound accounted for beside a different name.

I ran the Scottish bands,

I ran 'em one by one.

Starter nineteen, basic twenty,

intermediate twenty-one. Forty-two percent through seventy-five,

then forty-five to keep the dream alive.

Four pound twenty-four.

Four

pound twenty-four.

Not a rebate, not a windfall,

not a knock upon the door — you owe the Crown a

pint and nothing more.

Four pound twenty-four.

He came in hopeful:

"will I get a rebate this year?"

Son, the cumulative code already made it disappear.

S-twelve-fifty-seven-L,

running clean and true

—

the allowance banked while nobody was paying you.

You dodged it! You dodged the emergency code!

W1/M1 would've cost you four figures owed!

P45 processed, month eight,

cumulative — the November payslip quietly forgave it.

No JSA on the record,

no DWP line, National Insurance gap?

Qualifying. Fine. The frogs demand evidence — the evidence came through: the

sum that PAYE owed was the sum PAYE withdrew.

Four

pound twenty-four.

Four

pound twenty-four.

Under fifty quid, so they won't come asking for more

— just close the file and show yourself the door.

But there's money still out there,

and it isn't in the past.

Thirty-first of September, and the payslips didn't last.

Two weeks of allowance spread across a year you never worked

—

that's a refund sitting quiet where the taxman never looked.

Form P50. Personal tax account.

Twenty twenty-six, twenty-seven — that's the live amount.

Twenty-five, twenty-six is settled,

sealed, and swept the floor...

for four...

pound...

twenty-four.