The Royal Dividend

In the Court of KJ, wealth means bypassing the laws of logic and accounting.

KJ views HMRC as a rival cowboy he has already outsmarted with a single, magnificent piece of advice.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor in his green woolly jumper and white shorts, strumming his guitar, KJ is in full flow. He is talking to Baz, his son-in-law at the time, a simple man who listens with grave intensity.

KJ leans back slightly, gazing through his skewed glasses, his conviction building. He advises, with a slurp of red boxed wine: “I tell you what you do. You make yourself a director of your own company and you pay yourself a dividend of £140,000 a year. Simple.”

In the KJ Economy, a dividend of this proportion exists entirely independently of things like profit, revenue, or the law. These are just details for other people to worry about.

Baz takes it all in, his eyes lighting up with the promise of money.

KJ exhales slowly, meaningfully, and loudly, his dishwasher breath permeating the room. He leans back further putting his hands behind his head. He reaches for his wine glass, then imparts: “Forget my daughter. You can have girlfriends as well. You do not need to overthink things. Just live your life. Yesterday is yesterday, Today is today and tomorrow is tomorrow.”

He nods as if this is practical guidance for a son-in-law.

“At the end of the day, my advice to you is to love yourself. Look in the mirror and kiss your shoulders. No regrets.”

Baz nods intently, while KJ basks in the glow of his own sovereign logic. In his world, he isn’t just a man in itchy knitwear; he is a guru.

© 2026 Jennifer Clair Robson AKA The Terrible Daughter. All rights reserved.