Hester's bonus decision is a victory for Ed Miliband

It was Labour's plan to hold a Commons vote that forced the RBS chief to give up his £1m bonus.

It was Labour's plan to hold a Commons vote that forced the RBS chief to give up his £1m bonus.{C}

Explaining Stephen Hester's decision to waive his £1m bonus, RBS was clear that one man was responsible: Ed Miliband. It was Miliband's plan to force a Commons vote on the issue that prompted Hester's announcement last night. As one RBS director put it to the BBC's Robert Peston, it would have been "untenable" for a semi-nationalised bank to defy the will of parliament. Miliband probably would have preferred the row to continue for another week but this is still a significant victory for him. Like his intervention over the BSkyB deal, it is further evidence of his willingness to take on "vested interests".

For the coalition, which badly mishandled the issue, Hester's decision will come as a relief. It deprives Labour of an opportunity to inflict further damage on a dithering government. But the saga doesn't end here. Most bonuses are yet to be announced and Labour's intervention sets a significant precedent. As Faisal Islam pointed out, the logic of the party's position is that no one at RBS should receive a bonus of £1m. But around a hundred bankers pocketed that amount or more in 2010. Will Labour now scrutinise RBS pay more widely? The answer from Chuka Umunna on the Today programme this morning was "yes". He argued that RBS staff "like other public sector workers" should have their pay squeezed and promised to look at salaries "across the board".

But speaking for the government, William Hague sounded a cautionary note. He warned that politicians were not qualified to comment on "individual decisions" and the "day-to-day running of the banks". Then again, pointing to David Cameron's decision to ban cash bonuses above £2,000, he declared: "if we need to do more, we will do more." With RBS now likely to remain a state-owned institution until 2015 and beyond, both Labour and the Tories will have to think hard about how they ensure its pay is seen as fair in the eyes of the public. The government has every interest in avoiding a repeat of the furore next January.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

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 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times