Donations to universities are at a record high. Why does half go to Oxbridge?

Probably because they spend more.

A report released yesterday by the National Centre for Social Research shows that during 2011-2012 the UK’s universities received more money from philanthropists than ever before. A total of £774m was given, up from £676m in 2010-2011.

The UK’s top universities are receiving the majority of these gifts, with Oxford and Cambridge alone receiving half of the total amount given last year. It can be no coincidence, however, that the universities that receive the most are also spending the most on fundraising.

Out of the 143 institutions that took part in the survey, which was carried out for The Council for Advancement and Support of Education (CASE) and the Ross Group, Oxbridge and Russell Group universities received an enormous £644 million of the total given, with the remaining 119 universities receiving just £130 million between them. Twenty nine universities received donations of less than £100,000.

While many will attribute this imbalance to the fame and prestige of Oxbridge and Russell group universities — Michael Moritz’s gift of £75 million to Oxford last July makes up a substantial portion of the total given during 2011-2012 — the report suggests that, far from resting on their laurels, the top institutions are working hard to attract funding.

Anyone familiar with the challenges of fundraising knows that you have to spend money to make it. This is borne out by the fact that the universities that are receiving the largest donations are spending the most on attracting philanthropists: out of a total of £79 million spent on fundraising initiatives by the 143 participating institutions, £50 million was spent by Oxbridge and the Russell group universities — just 24 institutions in total.

The remaining 119 institutions spent just £29 million between them on fundraising, which averages out at £244,000 per institution as opposed to just over £2 million for the Russell group universities (including Oxbridge).

Interestingly, the figures also illustrate that while together the Oxbridge and Russell Group Universities made about £12.88 for every £1 spent on fundraising, other universities only made about £4.48 for every £1 spent.

This could be due to scalability, as Oxbridge and Russell Group institutions depend on large fundraising and development offices. Oxford and Cambridge alone employed 310 fundraising staff between them last year, and the Russell group employed 422. The other 119 institutions had only 429 fundraising staff between them – equivalent to 3 per university.

It might seem unfair that a handful of leading universities are receiving the vast majority of philanthropic gifts made to the UK’s higher education sector. But the CASE report suggests that these institutions are not merely cashing in on their fame, but making a sustained effort to attract the attention of private donors; to the UK universities that received little last year, it should therefore serve as a reminder that spending money can make you money.

This article first appeared in Spear's magazine.

Utter punts. Photograph: Getty Images

Mark Nayler is a senior researcher at Spear's magazine.

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

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 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war