18/06/2026
Please take the time to read it and ponder on what it says. It's very true and important!
'I run a thatched village pub,' writes this month's anonymous Grumbler:
It’s Grade II listed. The walls aren’t straight. The beams are older than Bonnie Prince Charlie. In winter, the heating bill could fund a modest moon landing. It’s exactly the sort of place politicians love standing outside when they want a photograph about protecting rural Britain. Unfortunately, it now appears to be exactly the sort of place the taxman thinks should be paying more.
Apparently my pub is now too nice.
HMRC has ordered officials to levy higher business rates on pubs that are in attractive locations. Also pubs with character. Pubs that play an important role in their communities. Pubs with decent food. Pubs with outdoor space. Pubs with playgrounds.
Pubs with parking.
Well, that’s me stuffed then.
For years we’ve been told village pubs need to diversify to survive. Don’t just sell beer, they said. Do food. Create outdoor seating. Build a play area. Welcome walkers. Support local groups. Hold events. Become a community hub.
So we did.
Now it appears the reward for succeeding is a larger tax bill. It’s difficult not to laugh.
Or cry.
Approximately two British pubs closed every day during the first three months of this year. Two Every Single Day.
The strange thing is that politicians seem to understand exactly what pubs contribute to communities … right up until the moment they start calculating the bill.
A village pub isn’t just somewhere people come for a pint. During the floods, we checked on elderly customers. We’ve taken deliveries for people who weren’t at home. We’ve helped collect money for local causes. We’ve provided a place for people who live alone to spend an evening talking to another human being.
You don’t get charged extra council tax for looking after your neighbours. Yet somehow pubs can be taxed more heavily for doing the business equivalent.
I often talk to other Dorset landlords – one I spoke to recently needs an extra £5,000 every month simply to absorb the new National Insurance and business rates. Another’s business rates have gone up over 50 per cent, and they have reduced staffing, despite being busier than ever. None of them are buying yachts. They’re just trying to keep the lights on.
The thing that really grates is that the playground didn’t grow out of the ground. The car park didn’t tarmac itself. The garden doesn’t self-weed. Quiz nights, charity raffles and community evenings don’t just organise themselves.
A successful village pub isn’t a sign of easy money. Usually it’s the result of years of hard work, risk and investment. What exactly are we supposed to do now? Let the place become shabby?
Perhaps I should stop mowing the grass. Let the hanging baskets die. Close the kitchen. Rip out the children’s play area and fill the car park with potholes. Then maybe I would qualify as a struggling business, worthy of sympathy.
Every village pub that closes takes something with it. Not just a business, but a meeting place, a local employer, somewhere to celebrate, commiserate and occasionally put the world to rights over a pint.
If the government really does want to save rural pubs, it needs to stop treating the things that make them valuable as reasons to tax them more heavily.
Because if being a beautiful, well-run village pub becomes a financial liability, don’t be surprised when there are fewer of them left.
**The Grumbler – Dorset Life’s open opinion column, a space for anyone to share their thoughts. While the editor needs to know the identity of contributors, all pieces are published anonymously. With just a few basic guidelines to ensure legality, safety and respect, we welcome honest and unfiltered views. Got something you need to get off your chest? Send it to
[email protected].
The Grumbler column is here for you. Go on, say it. We dare you.
