After what just happened to Chris Lucas, who'd be a banker?

Banker bashing is our new national sport.

Another week, another banker is on the podium. This week it’s the former Barclays’ finance director, Chris Lucas, who has just announced his retirement having joined the Bank in pre-recession in 2007.

Suddenly a flurry of questions surrounds him: Was he involved in the Libor scandal that forced his boss, Bob Diamond, to go?  Perhaps the current investigation into a suspicious loan to Qatar has something to do with it? Did Lucas leave on his own account or was there a gentle nudge by those seeking to clear out the Barclays "old guard"? (Mark Harding, Barclays Group General Counsel also announced his retirement having joined in 2003.) 

We simply don’t know yet. But so far all clues look innocent: apparently Lucas wanted to go two years ago, citing health reasons. He even waived his 2012 bonus because of the Libor scandal and insiders consider it unlikely he will part with a "golden handshake".

So why the tirade of questions? Is the retirement of a finance director really that interesting or perhaps banking needs a new villain? We want another Bob Diamond, another Fred Goodwin or Stephen Hester who we can point at and say, “You’re the problem”. Bored of the old banking stories, here is a something potentially new. Barclays has recently been beset by woes and the spotlight is on those walking out of the board room.    

While banker bashing has become endemic, a national sport, it is discouraging a generation from (what was) considered the top job. This scrutiny weighs heaviest on those, like Lucas, at board level. After announcing Lucas and Harding’s retirement, Barclays said, “Chris and Mark have agreed to remain in their roles until their successors have been appointed and an appropriate handover completed. The search for these appointments is now underway”. A job in banking anyone?   

Another week, another banker is on the podium. Getty Images

Oliver Williams is an analyst at WealthInsight and writes for VRL Financial News

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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