Raves

Posted on 1 Nov 2007 at 16:46

 

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I never liked money very much.

Don't get me wrong: I have nothing against solvency, or even affluence. It's the filthy lucre itself I don't like. Those little discs of poisonous metal that make my trousers bulge like a baboon's bum, and those bits of printed paper, riddled with cocaine, killer bugs and crap artwork. But maybe we don't have to put up with cash any more. Now, after one thousand years of waiting, financial technology finally allows us to go all-electronic, and I for one have decided to ditch money altogether. This month, I would like to invite you to consider the benefits of going cash-free.

Cash has had a good run. In ancient China, the first coins were actually shaped like Polo mints, and merchants would string them together on silken cords. But the more successful they got, the heavier their burdens of wealth became. Don't you empathise with the ancient Chinese, as you tote your toxic coins and pestilent banknotes around, at risk from loss by accident, oversight and daylight robbery?

To solve this problem, the ancient Chinese left their cash in the care of a trustworthy person, and in return they received a small square of durable material recording how much wealth they could redeem. And so the credit card was born, in what the Tang dynasty called 'flying money'. Only a thousand years later, Diners Club came up with the same idea, followed by American Express, Visa and all the rest.

Credit crunch

Now, in my ongoing quest for a simpler and stress-free life, I have stopped using credit cards as well as cash, and I only use my debit card, which has my mugshot emblazoned all over it for security reasons, plus a touch of vanity. Not for me the monthly usury and flagellation that is the madness of living beyond one's means on credit.

My personal banking has been online for years, and I also submit accounts and tax returns via the web. It's a doddle. These days, even venerable institutions such as Dennis Publishing pay me my menstrual wedge by electronic bank transfer. Similarly, I pay my merry band of helpers their pittance in the same way. It takes seconds, I have total control and I can monitor everything 24/7.

Virtual cash has been with us for over five years now. Over 10 million Oyster cards have already been issued for the purchase of everyday services such as cinema tickets and packets of Nicorette. But this is as nothing compared to MasterCard's PayPass system, soon to be emulated by Barclaycard's own version.

These marvellous devices work by osmosis, and it is the technology behind them that has finally persuaded me to trash the cash. Here's how it works. First, you invite your PayPass identity to absorb some of your personal wealth from the comfort of a secure website or, for the more adventurous of us, from a piss-stained ATM slot in a howling gale. Once your PayPass has become a virtual representation of your liquid assets, you can buy stuff simply by waving it in the general direction of the checkout, turnstile or kiosk.

Like a shape-shifting superhero, PayPass can assume a variety of guises. It can look just like my debit card, or it can be held in a handy key fob; it can even take up residence in a mobile phone. Better still, I will soon be the proud possessor of the next-generation card, which works outside the UK and pays for my indulgences in the local wonga. No more currency exchange commission misery for me!

Brass tax

I also think electronic wealth is good for the soul. The Exchequer hates cash as much as I do, because they can't track it, which means they can't tax it. If we all wear our wealth on our electronic sleeve, we can be taxed justly and promptly for the social benefit of everyone, except tax-dodgers. And misers will no longer be able to rot their souls counting and recounting hoards of coin and bullion. In fact, getting rid of cash will also help me with my own spontaneous acts of small kindness, because I will no longer be doling out coinage to beggars, buskers, charity collectors and children. Instead, I shall brighten their lives by handing them carefully chosen personal gifts, such as a signed copy of my latest book or a can of Special Brew, purchased electronically, not on the web, but on the street.