I have seen the future: it is Tesco plus pauperisation.
Finding himself in the High Street, he wanders into a British Red Cross fake-charity shop, and recalls that according to the British Red Cross’s accounts for 2015, it derived £29.9m from its retailing activities, raised by 631 paid employees and 6,346 volunteers. But the expenses incurred in raising the £29.9m were £25m.
So all this activity generated a profit of £4.9m. For every pound that is collected in charity shops, only 16.3p reaches the charitable coffers of the Red Cross, of which a not inconsiderable proportion is expended on the salaries of those who work for it.
How can the British Red Cross raise so little money from its retail operations? After all, it receives most of its goods and a large part of its labour free of charge, and it pays reduced local taxes (a policy that should, of course, cease). It is a miracle of disorganisation, at least equal to anything seen in the National Health Service: I hesitate to call it by a name less morally neutral than disorganisation.
Dalrymple calls upon the public
to give no money to charity, at least none that runs a shop.