The Eric Morecambe government

All the right things in the wrong order.

One of the great comedy lines of all time is Eric Morecambe’s retort to Andre Previn’s complaint about his inability to play Greig’s piano concerto. Grabbing Previn by the lapels he says, “I am playing all the right notes, just not necessarily in the right order”.

This might well be the motto for the government’s efforts to get the economy growing. They are doing some of the right things, just not necessarily in the right places and not really in the right quantities and crucially not with the right focus. Take the variety of state-sponsored lending schemes launched in the last year. When Project Merlin failed to magic up the boost in small business lending that it was expected to, the government launched (or relaunched) the Small Firm Loan Guarantee Scheme (SFLGS), which according to the department for business, was apparently successful, although it failed to get the economy really moving. Three months after it was launched the SFLGS was effectively replaced by the credit-easing scheme billed as Funding for Lending, which would allow banks to borrow at a cheaper rate.

Fast forward another two months and business secretary Vince Cable was out and about this week promoting an industrial strategy that included a suggestion all this may soon be collected together under the umbrella of some form of British business bank.

The details — whether it would include new cash (unlikely), who would be picking the schemes, sectors and firms to invest in and so on — weren’t included. It was a policy announcement coalition style, in effect little more than a floating of an idea to judge its credibility. A business bank in itself sounds like a sensible idea, although simply rebranding lending schemes or creating a fancy new website to house them all in won’t make businesses any hungrier for lending.  

Until that demand for borrowing returns (and to some extent that appetite will require the banks to drop some of the more onerous conditions and rates they are placing on lending at the moment), supply side measures will continue to have little impact.

Some commentators immediately seized on the problematic issue of governments picking winners and images of 1970s British Leyland plants were rolled out again to illustrate why this is such a bad thing. The real problem of course is not picking winners, but rather investing in losers. However, picking sectors seems to be more acceptable. Here, too, there are signs the government is playing the wrong tune. While freeing up planning regulations might help the housing sector, allowing a few homeowners to get the eight-foot conservatory they always dreamed of won’t pull us out of recession.

It is welcome to see a broader acceptance of the fact that there is a role for what shadow business secretary Chuka Umuna calls active government. But this activity will naturally involve selecting sectors to back. One sector that too often gets overlooked as a driver for growth is professional services. What role can the professions play in getting what has become known in some parts of Westminster as “this growth thing” moving?

To address just this question, the Professional and Business Services Group (PBSG) has produced an excellent report Seizing Opportunities for Growth, summarising the work of the sector and suggesting what needs to happen to keep things growing in the right way. The sector remains a major contributor to the UK economy, accounting for roughly 13 per cent of all economic activity, employing 3.5 million people and producing £167bn of GDP in 2010. Crucially it is an international business and accounts for 14 per cent of UK exports and returned a surplus on the UK’s current account of £28.5bn in 2010.

But the report makes it clear that despite the success of the sector there is more than can and must be done to protect and enhance this sector. Chief among these is the expansion of digital infrastructure to create what it calls “smart cities” and the opening up of government data for commercial exploitation and innovation.

The crucial point is that if we get the underlying structures, skills and systems right, then there would be less need to worry about government picking sectors or spotting winners, because everyone would be able to benefit from a more productive environment.

This article first appeared in economia.

Morcambe and Wise. Photograph: Getty Images

Richard Cree is the Editor of Economia.

Getty Images
Show Hide image

Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war