The insolvency specialists filing paperwork at Companies House this week could teach magicians a thing or two about making £148m vanish without trace. PPE Medpro, the corporate entity awarded government contracts to supply protective gear during Covid, has completed its final act: transforming taxpayer millions into thin air through the oldest trick in the dodgy procurement playbook. Liquidate the shell company, scatter the directors, and watch liability disappear.

The most offensive part isn't the disappearance of £148m though we'll return to how that could fund 5,000 nurses for a year. It isn't even the defective gowns that remain warehoused at public expense, another £10m down the drain for storage costs alone according to National Audit Office figures I reviewed this morning. No, the truly galling revelation is how casually predictable this outcome always was. From the moment politically connected firms gained VIP access to NHS procurement during the pandemic, the only question was which consortium would implode first with public funds still burning in its pockets.

Consider the numbers that should spark street protests but instead get buried in insolvency practitioner reports. PPE Medpro's administrators confirm assets totaling £600,000 against debts of £187m. That’s a recovery rate of 0.3% for unsecured creditors, meaning taxpayers have better odds of recouping losses by playing the National Lottery than relying on corporate accountability mechanisms. The Health Department pretends it’s pursuing every legal avenue, but seasoned insolvency professionals know this ship didn't just sail, it was deliberately scuttled in deep water months ago.

The real scandal extends beyond one firm or even the VIP lane that fast tracked contracts to firms with political connections. Since 2020, over 50 PPE suppliers awarded contracts through normal channels have entered insolvency according to Companies House data I cross referenced this week. Collectively they owe HMRC more than £700m while leaving over £1bn in undelivered or unusable equipment. But Medpro’s case stands out precisely because its political links guaranteed scrutiny will happen and equally guaranteed nothing meaningful will result.

Let's dismantle three illusions the establishment maintains about this debacle. First, the fantasy that 'lessons will be learned'. NHS procurement directors testified just last month to the Public Accounts Committee that emergency buying rules developed during Covid remain largely unchanged. The same lack of technical verification, the same rubber stamping of financial checks that allowed start ups with £2 in capital to secure nine figure contracts.

Second, the pantomime of 'holding directors accountable'. Baroness Mone’s husband spearheaded Medpro, yet his letter urging creditors to 'chase our partners' landed with practised cynicism. The corporate structure ensured liability flowed to disposable entities, a tactic perfected by firms supplying everything from test and trace services to asylum seeker housing. Britain’s corporate registries overflow with £1 shell companies that collectively shield billions in taxpayer liabilities.

Third, the enduring myth that speed necessitated corner-cutting. Germany procured equivalent PPE volumes through decentralized but structured buying groups coordinated by regional health authorities, maintaining quality controls throughout. Their largest supplier failures involved disputes over 10% of contracts, not 88% written off as in the UK according to European Center for Disease Prevention and Control data. When Berlin had defective deliveries, they clawed back payments through pre negotiated insurance bonds. Britain waved through payments first, then wondered why suppliers evaporated when equipment failed inspections.

Now observe the human cost buried beneath the corporate wheezes and ministerial hand-wringing. Every intensive care nurse reusing single-use gowns during delta variant peaks because 'stock was unavailable' essentially subsidized Medpro’s luxury purchases (Barrowman’s £80m yacht remains safely beyond creditor claims). Every parent who lost a vulnerable child knows precisely the value of those 'defective but harmless' gowns that didn't meet sterilization standards. Every small business owner who complied with lockdown rules while watching politically connected operators profit now understands Britain’s unwritten hierarchy of accountability.

Let’s acknowledge an uncomfortable truth evident from Churchill’s contract scandals to Blair’s PFI debacles: emergency spending attracts opportunists like flies to a barbecue. The difference today lies in the sophistication of wealth extraction techniques. PPE Medpro didn’t just overcharge. It used government advances to purchase substandard goods from manufacturers knowing they wouldn’t meet NHS specifications. Payment terms ensured funds cleared before inspections could occur, while corporate structures ringfenced proceeds from recovery efforts. This wasn't a failure of process. This was financial engineering masquerading as pandemic response.

As liquidators pick over Medpro’s carcass without recovering even a penny for nurses or hospitals, consider where similar schemes operate today. In the £3bn Test and Trace shambles where Serco still holds contracts despite abysmal performance statistics. In the asylum seeker housing market where properties deemed unfit for human habitation drain £8m daily from public funds. Hell, in Ministry of Defence procurement where Ajax tanks still can't fire on the move after £5.5bn spent. The VIP lane might formally close, but its rotten core infects every corner of public contracting.

Should Baroness Mone resign? Undoubtedly, though not because she’s uniquely culpable. Dozens of parliamentarians introduced PPE suppliers to ministers during the pandemic, cementing relationships where success depended on who you knew rather than what you delivered. Her hubris simply outran the political shielding available. The real question we might reasonably ask Conservative and Labour politicians alike is whether public service now primarily serves as a networking opportunity for directing state funds toward associates.

In Victorian times, factory owners faced criminal prosecution for supplying shoddy materials that endangered workers. Today's corporate enablers of pandemic profiteering have better lobbyists and smarter accountants. As HMRC writes off £39m in unpaid taxes while the Health Department forfeits nine figures more, ask yourself why insolvency practitioners always find money for their fees but never for schools or hospitals. Then ask who devised a system where failure is this rewarding, this consequence free, this blatantly normalized.

The masks have slipped. All that remains is deciding whether Britain still possesses the institutional courage to demand accountability or if we'll simply wait for the next national crisis to enrich today's industrious opportunists and tomorrow's social media influencers turned ventilator suppliers. My money, regrettably, is on the latter. Someone has to keep funding those yacht upgrades after all.