CHELSEA — The problem with change is that you cannot always foresee what might happen next.  So you create an anticipated direction of travel and risks, issues, dependencies etc. along the way.

That’s how it’s done.  In a nutshell.

The problem with Britain’s big banks though is not that they don’t know what might happen next.  They do, but they’re determined to fight against it.

It is clear when you compare the banking systems of, say, Canada, what the problems of the UK and US systems were.  You can’t really argue it.

As the Chancellor George Osborne has said:

Take the financial sector out of the equation and economic growth in the rest of the economy during recovery has actually been above its average rate of the last two decades.

In fact, the Office of National Statistics says that Britain’s banks are responsible for 1/3 of our national fall in output since 2008.

That’s not really all that funny.

According to many of the banks the recovery is too unclear for action to be taken now.  However, for all the lack of clarity they see around the recovery, the implications of further regulation do seem clear to them.

And they know that that change wouldn’t be good.

Which, of course, is total rubbish.

Change is good.

When it comes to further regulation… and ring-fencing of retail banking, for example… there can really be little argument.

Let’s get on with managing the change.

/df

TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD — Twenty years ago I was trying to decide what to do with my life, and had set up a meeting with Joan Donaldson.  This modest woman of the Canadian Broadcasting Company (CBC) was just about to go live with CBC Newsworld – the broadcaster’s national ‘all-news’ network.

I was excited to see her.  I had even re-tuned and steam-ironed my CV.  I bought a crisp brown envelope to put it in.

Then suddenly and mysteriously she was hit by a cyclist on a cycle path outside the CBC offices in Montreal harbour.  She suffered brain injuries and never recovered.  That was 1990.  She died 4 years ago.

This week there’s been a Tube strike in London.  It coincides with the arrival of London’s Barclays Cycle Hire.  The bikes are famously modeled on Montreal’s Bixi programme.

So this week London is slowly filling up with people taking to the bikes.  And it begs a simple question:

“What are London’s cycling the rules?”

I am sure they are published somewhere, but they’re not enforced, or coherent. 

• How many people need to be found under a bus?
• What happens when people come off the bikes?
• How do you stop them being the drunken mode of transport du jour? (Oh, yea, I’ve seen it.)

Bicycle rules in the city are already a shambles.  Bike paths take you down one way streets.  Cyclists berate each other over jumping lights, riding on the pavement or wearing helmets.

• Have you ever seen a head hit pavement?  Even from 3/4 feet up?  (I have and it’s not nice.)
• Who’s liable when bike meets pedestrian?
• Is ignorance an excuse?

And then, once you’ve decided, how will you let people know?  The lovely maps and cash-taking machines are silent on the issue.  Will Barclays, the Mayor of London and TFL be happy when the accidents become the story?

I know what Joan Donaldson would think.  And I know how much I would have like to have met her.

/df

HOME — I do like to watch shows that I shouldn’t like. Or shows that seem like they’ll be good for you. And Ian Hislop’s Changing of the Bard about the ‘great’ British tradition of Poet Laureate is one of those.

I didn’t know much about the role. Not as much as I thought I did anyway. But now I do. And I think I am uniquely qualified.

I am British. (Just.)

I am definitely a more personable character than Ted Hughes. I have better facial hair than Tennyson – by far. But that may not be enough.

I also love poetry. And in a different time, when one could make a living writing verse, I would have jumped in with both feet. The fact that I can’t spell shouldn’t hold me back. (Try reading Shakespeare in the original.) And nor should the fact that my earliest poetic musing were in French. (One of our first Poet Laureate’s patrons couldn’t even speak English.)

But what a job! I’d love it.

So, without wanting to launch a reality-TV style competition for the next naming… a little less than 10 years from when the role will come up again… here’s my submission for your consideration.

Take your time. We’ve got a few years yet.

On Royal soil

What the hell happened to our life in the noughties?
Politicians have once again lost their senses
And we can’t stop the Tele from talking expenses
Let’s flush them out like pheasant for Royal retirees

Chung, clack, BOOOM!
Chung-a, chung-a, clack… BOOOM!
Squaak, flutter / flutter… plunk.

What does the new world order hold for Britain?
Noble bankers we were, but now it seems we’re not
What do we do with the suits we have bought?
The right to dress up’s in the Constitution we haven’t written

‘Point of order!’ BOOOM!
‘Mister Speaker, sir…?’ BOOOM!
‘Where’d they all go?’ Go… go…

I know. It’s amazing. What am I doing sitting behind this desk?

/df

TCR — Here are a few things we’re thinking about today.

1. Our doorman sent a note around about the plan if protesters invade our office. So far we haven’t even had a drunk wander in looking for a loo.

2. The COI published the Internal Communications and Change roster. Now you can see why we chose the name we did.

3. We all like people who like us. The lovely Rachel has written a nice blog about the recent Able Round Table. Thanks Rach.

4. If you download TweetDeck and type in G20 to the search bit you can follow it live. It’s compulsive.

5. Asking a US President about football makes everyone seem silly.

A demain.

/df

MAYFAIR — I’m not really a good “guy’s guy”. I’m not a very good shot. I can’t drink beer quickly. And I would rather talk to girls than talk about them.

However, in spite of that I set out last night quite happily for a black-tie dinner at a gentlemen’s club in Mayfair. I know the host and almost half the guys. There were Canadians, Americans, English, Scots, but for some reason all the South Africans have already fled town… and the Aussies, as you know, don’t do black tie.

They weren’t even all bankers… there were lawyers too! But, unfortunately that didn’t help. It was like being at a convention for retired superheroes. All the daring-do was in the past. And the present wasn’t… well it wasn’t very funny.

I stopped asking people about work after a while. But the most difficult part was that the one requirement of the evening that everyone had to tell a joke. And they were horrible, toe-curling, eye-poking, get-up and go to the bathroom, bad.

Because the group was roughly built around a graduating class from business school at Harvard, I can only come to one or two conclusion:

Business is really bad
The recession has sucked the last bit of air from the room
We need more women to run the world.

/df

THE RITZ — I remember Mickey Rooney in particular from his cringeworthy portrayal of the upstairs neighbour in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. But I know my parents knew him as a child star in better roles.

He’s in Bristol this Christmas. Doing pantomime. With his 8th wife.

Good for him.

Goodness knows where he gets his energy.

The power of reinvention should be a theme for the holidays in 2008. What can you be next year?

I was talking to bankers on Saturday night, after a show at the BAC.

“You guys never set out to be bankers, did you?” Vigorous head-shaking.

“So now the world may get more of you back to do more interesting things in the economy…?” Pause. Vigorous head nodding.

We may all hope that one day we’ll be asked to do Panto in Bristol.

/df

P.S. I fulfilled an entrepreneurial vision finally this morning: I came in early and emptied the bins.