Microsoft has finally realised it needs to copy Apple - but does it have what it takes?

The Surface represents a new direction for the company.

With a couple of days to digest the news that Microsoft is launching – and, more importantly, building – an iPad competitor, a consensus seems to have emerged: Microsoft has learned from Apple.

The most obvious thing about the news is that Microsoft is kicking its OS licensees in the face. As John Gruber writes, although the move was driven by Apple, it is actually an attack on companies like HP, Dell and Asus which previously worked with the company and now find themselves in competition with it. Microsoft has made tablet operating systems since before Apple, and have always been in competition with the iPad; it just hasn't done a very good job of it.

The reason why is clear:

After 37 years, Microsoft agrees with Alan Kay: “People who are really serious about software should make their own hardware.”

As Jason Kottke points out, to succeed in the tablet ecosystem requires more than Microsoft could promise as the provider of software only. An entire ecosystem needs to build around the tablet, from content provision and sister devices to an OS built for a specific hardware setup, rather than one-size-fits-all software, and that was something that the company simply couldn't guarantee without building its own.

Not that there is that much risk in pissing off their erstwhile allies. When it comes to tablets, Microsoft has seen that it's "own the OS or bust", so aren't particularly concerned about the prospect of competition from OEMs running generic OSes; and when it comes to PCs, there remains no alternative.

But there remains a sense that Microsoft has finally accepted what a "post-PC" era means, and – although three years late – are preparing to retool their business towards that. Frankly, it's just a case of following the money. Horace Deidu does the maths:

If we simply divide revenues by PCs sold we get about $55 Windows revenues per PC and $68 of Office revenues per PC sold. The total income for Microsoft per PC sold is therefore about $123. If we divide operating income by PCs as well we get $35 per Windows license and $43 per Office license. That’s a total of $78 of operating profit per PC.

Now let’s think about a post-PC future exemplified by the iPad. Apple sells the iPad with a nearly 33% margin but at a higher average price than Microsoft’s software bundle. Apple gives away the software (and apps are very cheap) but it still gains $195 in operating profit per iPad sold.

Microsoft has shown that it knows where to head. But, as the video starting this post demonstrates, it's not yet clear that they have the competency to get there. Beyond hedging their bets on things like launch dates, pricing, and specs, they didn't allow journalists much hands on time (only a couple of minutes), and none at all with the keyboard cover which appears to be one of their largest selling points. They now need to spend the time until launch ensuring that they can live up to the promises made there.

The Microsoft Surface from behind

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

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 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times