Cyprus: it's hard to imagine a neater way of undermining confidence in the banking sector.

A PR disaster.

I hold my hands up.  I could not have been more wrong if I had tried.

I did not believe that the banking powers-that-be (the European Union, European Central Bank and International Monetary Fund) would be so dumb as to sanction a levy on consumers savings to bail out banks.

It has been a PR disaster. It is hard to imagine a neater way of undermining confidence in the banking sector.

That the leading banks in Cyprus are in a mess is not in dispute. The sector is reckoned to need a bailout of €17 bn; that is probably a conservative estimate. But the proposal to raise €5.8 bn from depositors of Cypriot banks sets a dangerous precedent, in particular the notion that the levy apply to all savers.

There is, or rather there was, an EU-wide guarantee that small savers’ deposit balances up to €100,000 were protected. That assurance has been given to savers in Cyrus as elsewhere in the EU. That promise is now seen to be complete and utter bunkum. It gets worse. The EU and the European Central Bank are not merely allowing the authorities in Cyprus to rip up the €100,000 guarantee; the EU and ECB are the very bodies pressing Cyprus to levy a charge on all depositors.

The latest in this Cypriot pantomime is that the country’s president Nicos Anastasiades is considering a levy on deposits below €100,000 of 3 per cent. That, I suppose, is an improvement on a levy of 6.7 percent proposed over the weekend. The revised act of larceny would witness account holders with balances of between €100,000 and €500,000 forfeiting 10 percent, while deposit balances above €500,000 would be cut by 15 per cent.

It is no wonder that share prices have tumbled at the Eurozone’s largest banks. It can be argued that Cyprus is a special case as regards the size of its banking sector relative to the country’s GDP. It is not however far-fetched to imagine consumers in countries such as Spain, Greece and especially Italy fearing that their savings may be under threat in the future.

Just to add to the gloom, Jeroen Dijsselbloem, the Dutch president of the group of euro area ministers, on Saturday refused to rule out taxes on depositors in countries beyond Cyprus. There remains time for the Cyprus government and the EU authorities to re-work their sums in an attempt to rebuild trust among small depositors. They could, for example, apply a tax-free threshold of €100,000 while raising the threshold on savings above €100,000; it is the least the government ought to do.

A PR disaster for the IMF, ECB, and EU. Photograph: Getty Images

Douglas Blakey is the editor of Retail Banker International

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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