The FRC has blundered into Britain’s boardrooms

...and set out a series of potentially very difficult tests for the directors.

In the aftermath of the banking crisis it was inevitable, and appropriate, that part of the clean up would involve looking at the quality and effectiveness of the auditing and financial reporting of the banks and other associated financial institutions. The fall-out from this process is now starting to hit home with several major reports and consultations reaching a critical stage.

One of these is the investigation carried out by Lord Sharman into the concept of going concern. He was charged by the FRC to investigate whether, in the light of the financial crisis, it was time to reconsider the nature and use of going concern and liquidity risks and any lessons for company directors, investors and auditors and whether they were equally well served by current arrangements.

His inquiry reported back at the end of last year and was broadly welcomed as a sensible piece of work that asked important questions and raised interesting issues for debate. He suggested a number of subtle shifts in the use of going concern, pointing out a need for greater consideration to be given to solvency risk as well as liquidity risk, asking whether more information should be available on the way boards had reached a view on going concern (and especially any assumptions made in the process). But he was equally clear that there was no need to create a special regime for banks and other financial institutions.

In January the FRC revealed how it intended to implement Lord Sharman’s proposals when it released revised guidance on going concern for consultation. The reaction of almost everyone I have spoken to about that guidance has been one of alarm, apart from those who were either shocked or appalled at the prospect. The FRC appears to have adopted the sort of over-implementation more commonly seen when the UK government reacts to a European directive.

Considering the reasoning for his initial investigation, it is alarming to consider that while it’s unlikely much will change in the boardrooms of the UK’s largest financial institutions as a result of the new guidance, the boardrooms of almost every other business are in for something of a shock. Thanks to actions elsewhere in the regulatory universe, banks and financial institutions are already required to pay much closer attention to long-term solvency and liquidity risks and to look further ahead to try and spot and avoid potential future shocks. And for these financial few there is always the backstop of government or central bank support, with bailouts now apparently so normal a part of life that it’s OK for a bank requiring one to be considered a going concern.

Leaving aside the overly optimistic (some might say impetuous) timetable the FRC set for implementation of its guidance, under which the new system is effectively already in play (having kicked in for financial years starting last October, even if they aren’t due to actually report until later this year), there are also doubts being raised about the way the questions for consultation were framed. In January, Scottish Electoral Commissioner John McCormick forced the Scottish National Party to rephrase the wording of the question for the referendum on independence. Apparently voters felt that a question starting “Do you agree…” wasn’t neutral enough. A read of the FRC consultation shows that all but the last of 15 questions is potentially similarly positively loaded.

Doubtless with the best of intentions, the FRC has blundered into Britain’s boardrooms and set out a series of potentially very difficult tests for the directors. Whether directors should be asking themselves these tough questions is one thing, but whether they should be mandated to do so through the corporate governance code (even one built around a comply or explain model) is another. Likewise whether auditors should be thinking again about these issues in greater depth is up for debate, particularly given the wider questions on the future and value of audit. But again whether this is the right time, place or method to introduce such concepts is again questionable.

Above all, these proposals raise a question of who should pay the price for the failures to more accurately predict and deal with the financial crisis. The current FRC guidance seems to suggest that the most effective way to prevent a repeat is to place further complex burdens on those running small and medium-sized businesses and to make it harder than ever for them to access the vital funding and finance from investors. If there is one lesson from the financial crisis and the long, slow and fragile recovery from it is that we should be doing all we can to build confidence across all sectors of the UK economy. The greatest long-term risk to all investors and businesses is not their inherent liquidity or solvency but rather whether there will be a decent and growing market for their goods and services. These proposals will do little to assist that and potentially will be ultimately self-defeating as a result.

The only good news is that however loaded the consultation, the proposed guidance is still just a proposal. There is a public meeting at the FRC next Thursday morning to discuss the pros and cons of the proposals and consultation. Let’s hope that through the force of feedback and constructive discussion we might yet arrive at more sensible implementation of Lord Sharman’s suggestions.

Photograph: Getty Images

Richard Cree is the Editor of Economia.

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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