Sam Glover
Sam puts on his ranty pants, takes on the DVLA – and loses.
The DVLA used to be staffed by people. The benefit of qualified human judgement meant that its Dickensian systems more-or-less functioned. When they didn’t, issues could be solved via a telephone conversation, or face-to-face at a local office. Then, in 2013, all employees were sacked and replaced by an angry BBC Micro computer in Swansea. This was connected to a printer, allowing it to send threats of fines and car repossession to mildmannered motorists. As long as you hadn’t actually done anything wrong, these could be counteracted.
Recently, though, the angry BBC Micro has been connected to the internet. The subsequent avalanche of data is more than its glitchy 8-bit brain can handle. It’s gone haywire, showering the country with false accusations and hysterical abuse concerning car tax, SORN declarations and bogus insurance violations. More alarmingly, it’s been given the authority to issue penalties and take people to court.
Punishment, but no crime
As the owner of 50-or-so cars, the DVLA sends me a weekly pile of deforestation. The letters are skim-read for useful content, then placed accordingly in the recycling bin. Earlier this year, however, I received a new type of letter, which demanded that I pay an £80 penalty for failing to tax a vehicle. It related to a derelict FX4 taxi that’d long-since departed. A month after selling it, I’d noticed that the DVLA had taken a further £21.43 tax payment from my account via Direct Debit. Assuming this to be a product of the BBC Micro’s addled circuitry, I cancelled the Direct Debit to stop it happening again. This was the root of the issue.
What I wrote in response succinctly explained the situation: ‘I sold this car on October 4, 2017. It left my premises and I sent the V5C to the DVLA on this date. Failure to record this change of ownership was either the fault of the DVLA or the Royal Mail – but it was certainly not mine. My last tax payment was on November 1, 2017. You have therefore already taken £21.43 more from me than you should have done. The car’s MOT expired on October 13, 2017, and it was a non-functional restoration project. You are therefore asking me to pay a penalty for failing to tax an un-mot’d, unroadworthy car that I did not own. Surely this is unjust?’ I received a generic letter from the BBC Micro that explained how to tax a vehicle, how to transfer ownership and how I could pay my penalty. At the bottom, it stated: ‘To request a Dispute Form (V991) either ring us on the above number, select option one to speak to an advisor, or write to the above address, quoting the vehicle registration number. This will be sent within one day of receipt of your request.’ The placement of commas is the DVLA'S, not mine. Calling the number put me through to the BBC Micro, which speaks in a patronising male voice. It was an automated payment line and ‘option one’ did not put me through to an advisor. None of the options, in fact, put me through to an advisor. Each digital cul-de-sac ended in the BBC Micro informing me, coldly: ‘As we cannot help you further we are now ending this call.’ I wrote a letter requesting a V991. Nothing came. I waited three weeks, then called the DVLA’S generic phone number. After negotiating a labyrinth of longwinded and irrelevant pearls of wisdom from the BBC Micro, I was put through to one of its human slaves. She was tired and disorientated, but agreed to send me me a V991. The condescending recitations of the BBC Micro meant that the call took 22 minutes, costing £12.10 via mobile phone. The V991 arrived two-and-a-half weeks later.
The computer says £80
I returned the V991, repeating my prevous story. The final letter I received was from another human. He confirmed that the DVLA had failed to record the original change of ownership. He explained, however, that I remained liable for the £80 penalty because I’d failed to respond to the absence of a letter acknowledging the change of ownership. His authoritarian final words: ‘My decision concludes the dispute process, and we will not consider any further information from you about this case.’
His patronising tone bore a suspicious similarity to the telephone manner of the BBC Micro. If he is indeed a real person: shame on him. If the DVLA is going to succeed, it needs to be transparent, approachable, competent and – above all – just. At present, it appears to be none of these things.