Note to British retailers: don't try to take on America

Did anyone really think Tesco could do it?

When Tesco announced it was going to take on America, I thought, ‘When will they ever learn?’ and waited for the Yorktown Bugler of 1781 to sound the retreat all over again.

This escapade by the UK’s biggest retailer was always destined for disaster, and so it has proved as Tesco is forced to write off a cool (reported) £1 bn – money they now urgently need at home to invest in the underperforming original UK business.

The record of British grocers and other retailers in the Land of the Free is littered with failures: remember M&S’s ill-fated venture? That’s the M&S which was a penny bazaar in Manchester, then became a wardrobe for the ladies of Middle England, before turning to food, where it was the first ever retailer to put an acceptable chicken Kiev on the nation’s dining tables.
 
Then it screwed up in America when it bought Brooks Brothers, a purveyor of up-market (in America, that is!) men’s suits, shirts and ties – the sort of offerings which would be considered offensive in Savile Row. The suits were surely cut by lumberjacks and the shirts were made by tent-makers. (Don’t even talk about the ties!)

M&S had made a bad mistake, and the bugler sounded the retreat.

Then J Sainsbury had a gamble and lost their shirt too, with something called People’s Stores, before the Bugler was called on once again.

But when the mighty Tesco said it was going to sell frozen chips and carrots in California, everyone had forgotten its rivals’ track record. Tesco, however, wasn’t going to spend zillions on an acquisition – it would build from scratch, with a new brand – called, after endless market research, "Fresh & Easy".

Well, the chips and carrots never took off, and are now definitely off the menu.

The shares rose on the announcement, leaving that Old Sage of Omaha rubbing his hands with glee: he had bought the discounted shares, but not the chips and carrots.

What is it about America, and British grocers? Here are some of the answers: British retail management doesn’t work there; they can’t bully suppliers there like they can here, in our much smaller market; the distribution logistics are far more complicated – bigger distances, more media outlets for adverts, far greater shopping around for price; much less consumer loyalty, and so on. Then you are only ever working on tiny margins – just 3 per cent, which get easily squeezed at both ends.

The only British retailer to make a bit of a success in America that I can recall – as they didn’t end up a loser, at least – was British American Tobacco.

Having wrung every ounce of profit from the addictive nicotine, before it was realised that cigarettes were just cancer-sticks, it then joined the trend towards conglomerates, so-prevalent in the 1960s-80s, and went into insurance and financial services, and retail in America: it acquired established chains like Marshall Fields in Chicago and Saks Fifth Avenue, both profitable department store chains, and sensibly left the incumbent American management in charge.

When the stock market M&A teams had made two generations of income from creating such conglomerates – remember Hanson, BTR, Pearson, Williams Holdings? – the mood music changed again and the next generation made the same fees in reverse, by taking it all apart again...

Such are the City’s fashions and its zero added-value. The City’s new love affair was with single product/sector companies, with global markets and expertise who knew exactly what they were doing – like Tesco.

So, it is worth pondering which sectors of the British economy have made real money in America. One starts with pop music, actors, TV and films – entertainment is the second biggest industry in America, and in export terms too, only behind defence.

And the UK has done well in defence in niche sectors – BAE, Rolls-Royce, Smiths Industries, Dowty-Messier, Cobham, Chemring and so on – which all depend on world-beating technology. Banking and financial services have their fair share too.

Cars have been hopeless in the past, but now Jaguar Land Rover is the fastest-growing marque in the world, and doing well in America too, as are those hardy perennials Rolls-Royce and Bentley.

And certain non-computer parts of the digital world, such as mobile phone services, and luxury brands too – Burberry, Barbour and fashion generally – and the advertising that goes with it.

Anything except frozen chips and carrots, in fact.

This article first appeared in Spear's magazine

Photograph: Getty Images

Stephen Hill writes for Spear's

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Inside Big Ben: why the world’s most famous clock will soon lose its bong

Every now and then, even the most famous of clocks need a bit of care.

London is soon going to lose one of its most familiar sounds when the world-famous Big Ben falls silent for repairs. The “bonging” chimes that have marked the passing of time for Londoners since 1859 will fall silent for months beginning in 2017 as part of a three-year £29m conservation project.

Of course, “Big Ben” is the nickname of the Great Bell and the bell itself is not in bad shape – even though it does have a huge crack in it.

The bell weighs nearly 14 tonnes and it cracked in 1859 when it was first bonged with a hammer that was way too heavy.

The crack was never repaired. Instead the bell was rotated one eighth of a turn and a lighter (200kg) hammer was installed. The cracked bell has a characteristic sound which we have all grown to love.

Big Ben strikes. UK Parliament.

Instead, it is the Elizabeth Tower (1859) and the clock mechanism (1854), designed by Denison and Airy, that need attention.

Any building or machine needs regular maintenance – we paint our doors and windows when they need it and we repair or replace our cars quite routinely. It is convenient to choose a day when we’re out of the house to paint the doors, or when we don’t need the car to repair the brakes. But a clock just doesn’t stop – especially not a clock as iconic as the Great Clock at the Palace of Westminster.

Repairs to the tower are long overdue. There is corrosion damage to the cast iron roof and to the belfry structure which keeps the bells in place. There is water damage to the masonry and condensation problems will be addressed, too. There are plumbing and electrical works to be done for a lift to be installed in one of the ventilation shafts, toilet facilities and the fitting of low-energy lighting.

Marvel of engineering

The clock mechanism itself is remarkable. In its 162-year history it has only had one major breakdown. In 1976 the speed regulator for the chimes broke and the mechanism sped up to destruction. The resulting damage took months to repair.

The weights that drive the clock are, like the bells and hammers, unimaginably huge. The “drive train” that keeps the pendulum swinging and that turns the hands is driven by a weight of about 100kg. Two other weights that ring the bells are each over a tonne. If any of these weights falls out of control (as in the 1976 incident), they could do a lot of damage.

The pendulum suspension spring is especially critical because it holds up the huge pendulum bob which weighs 321kg. The swinging pendulum releases the “escapement” every two seconds which then turns the hands on the clock’s four faces. If you look very closely, you will see that the minute hand doesn’t move smoothly but it sits still most of the time, only moving on each tick by 1.5cm.

The pendulum swings back and forth 21,600 times a day. That’s nearly 8m times a year, bending the pendulum spring. Like any metal, it has the potential to suffer from fatigue. The pendulum needs to be lifted out of the clock so that the spring can be closely inspected.

The clock derives its remarkable accuracy in part from the temperature compensation which is built into the construction of the pendulum. This was yet another of John Harrison’s genius ideas (you probably know him from longitude fame). He came up with the solution of using metals of differing temperature expansion coefficient so that the pendulum doesn’t change in length as the temperature changes with the seasons.

In the Westminster clock, the pendulum shaft is made of concentric tubes of steel and zinc. A similar construction is described for the clock in Trinity College Cambridge and near perfect temperature compensation can be achieved. But zinc is a ductile metal and the tube deforms with time under the heavy load of the 321kg pendulum bob. This “creeping” will cause the temperature compensation to jam up and become less effective.

So stopping the clock will also be a good opportunity to dismantle the pendulum completely and to check that the zinc tube is sliding freely. This in itself is a few days' work.

What makes it tick

But the truly clever bit of this clock is the escapement. All clocks have one - it’s what makes the clock tick, quite literally. Denison developed his new gravity escapement especially for the Westminster clock. It decouples the driving force of the falling weight from the periodic force that maintains the motion of the pendulum. To this day, the best tower clocks in England use the gravity escapement leading to remarkable accuracy – better even than that of your quartz crystal wrist watch.

In Denison’s gravity escapement, the “tick” is the impact of the “legs” of the escapement colliding with hardened steel seats. Each collision causes microscopic damage which, accumulated over millions of collisions per year, causes wear and tear affecting the accuracy of the clock. It is impossible to inspect the escapement without stopping the clock. Part of the maintenance proposed during this stoppage is a thorough overhaul of the escapement and the other workings of the clock.

The Westminster clock is a remarkable icon for London and for England. For more than 150 years it has reminded us of each hour, tirelessly. That’s what I love about clocks – they seem to carry on without a fuss. But every now and then even the most famous of clocks need a bit of care. After this period of pampering, “Big Ben” ought to be set for another 100 or so years of trouble-free running.

The Conversation

Hugh Hunt is a Reader in Engineering Dynamics and Vibration at the University of Cambridge.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.