Lord Stephenson - dishonest or delusional?

Ex-chairman of HBOS called to account.

The Bank of England has said that the economic impact of the financial crisis was on a par with the Second World War. And the wannabe Inglorious Basterds on the Parliamentary Commission on Banking Standards continue to call to account the war criminals.

It all feels a bit like old news now… We know full well that HBOS was badly run. We know about the secret bailouts, the “spirit of optimism” that led to disaster.

This week it was the turn of Lord Stephenson. The ex-chairman of HBOS was - and still is - suave and silver-tongued. He is the kind of man who you believe when he says something like

..there was just no way we [the HBOS leadership] were encouraging a culture of excessive risk-taking.

But one committee member – Lord Lawson – wasn’t having any of it. “You are living in cloud cuckoo land,” he said.

And to remind ourselves just how risk-averse HBOS was in the lead-up to the melt-down, we should recall the story of Benny Higgins. A bona fide banking superstar, Benny Higgins joined HBOS in 2006 from RBS, where he had overseen the successful integration of NatWest into the group.

After less than two years, he left HBOS under a cloud, having presided over the dramatic reduction of the bank’s  mortgage book. With hindsight it sounds prudent and praiseworthy action. At the time, however, he was universally pilloried for presiding over such a huge loss in market share.

And in the wake of this “disaster”, silver-tongued Stephenson was there to reassure twitchy stakeholders that the bank would bounce back and regain its position in residential mortgages. Not only that, but he wrote to the FSA (a letter since published by the Commission), emphasising that HBOS was a “highly conservative institution”.

I am not aware of any lurking horrors in our business or our balance sheet. Quite the reverse ... HBOS in an admittedly uncertain and insecure world is in as secure a position as it could be.

Happy to be crossed questioned on this but I hope you know me well enough to know this is neither a bravura nor an ill considered statement.

There you are – a man in control… Confident and reassuring. A year later the bank had been merged with Lloyds and was being bailed out by the taxpayer to the tune of £17 bn.

We could rely on Lord Lawson to remind Stephenson just how much bravura there was in that statement. “Either you were being dishonest when you wrote that or, if you believed it, you were delusional,” he said.

“Spirit of optimism” at HBOS: Photograph: Getty Images

James Ratcliff is Group Editor of  Cards and Payments at VRL Financial News.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood