The rollercoaster ride that was RSM Tenon has reached a predictable end

There weren't too many winners.

Having been the subject of a speculative bid from rival mid-tier firm Baker Tilly in late July, a Stock Exchange announcement yesterday made it clear that the latest experiment in non-partner ownership for an accountancy firm had come to a sticky end. The firm was put into pre-pack administration and the operational elements immediately snapped up, by Baker Tilly. If RSM Tenon was expecting this outcome no one told its PR team, judging by the RSM Tenon website, where the lead press release in its media centre is a comment on the national insolvency statistics.

Baker Tilly appears to have played a blinder with the biggest questions about the merger answered by the prepack deal, which means it doesn’t have to shoulder the listed company’s debts. The losers from the deal would appear to be the shareholders (although the smarter ones should already have been expecting to lose most, if not all, of their investment for some time) and Lloyds Bank.

 Few people will feel much sympathy for the bank, which due to its ongoing involvement in the financing of the deal may not have to write-off all of the estimated £80m of debt.

In truth there haven’t been too many winners throughout the saga of RSM Tenon, which has really reached a low point with the discovery of a black hole in its own finances (never a good thing, but catastrophic for an accountancy firm seeking to break with tradition). So what lessons does the whole saga offer?

1) “Turnover is vanity, profit is sanity”. Thanks to its regular use on TV reality business shows such as Dragons’ Den, more people are familiar with the idea that growth at all costs can often come at a terrible price. The undoing of RSM Tenon can at least in part be traced back to aggressive expansion strategy that rested on growth by acquisition. Most of these acquisitions happened at the top of the market.

2) The recovery will see insolvencies climb. One feature of this recession has been staggeringly low interest rates. These have allowed the phenomenon of “zombie companies” to develop, and in some ways RSM Tenon was a zombie accountancy firm, able to limp along servicing its debts but no longer able to finance growth through acquisitions. In previous recessions as the economy recovers, interest rates pick up (as a sign of economic vitality and activity) and more businesses struggle. Some clearing out of the deadwood may not be bad for the economy, although the situation is further complicated by the Bank of England’s decision to tie unemployment in to interest rates.

3) The partnership model works, especially for accountancy firms. For all the critiques and brickbats thrown at it, it would appear to work better than any of the alternative structures, including setting up as a publicly listed company. The listing was in part meant to bring RSM Tenon access to financial markets to allow it to continue its expansion drive. But those markets have been sluggish and resistant to all but the safest lending and capital has been expensive to obtain.

4) We can expect further consolidation in the professional services market. Game-changing organic growth is difficult to achieve in any market and apparently even more so in accountancy. With the Big Four owning such a large slice of the market, there may be plenty of business out there for the rest of the field, but for a firm to jump up the top 10 requires consolidation of the sort offered by this deal for Baker Tilly.

5) There is a demand for greater competition. It’s been the buzzword since 2008, when a perceived failure by auditors to qualify the accounts of financial institutions on the brink of collapse was put down to a lack of competition having led to too much coziness and a loss of quality. To date there has been little hard evidence to prove that artificially generating competition in the market (though mandatory rotation or tendering of audits) will lead to any significant improvement in service quality. However, one aspect of the Baker Tilly takeover of Tenon is that it will create another significant player at the top end of the market able to handle more complex work. Life may be about to get even more competitive, with possible entrants from the far east and especially large Chinese firms (as in other industry sectors) looking to skill-up their employees with an eye to global expansion.

In the short term little will change in the UK profession as a result of this deal, other than for the employees and clients of the two firms. As with most pre-pack administration it is encouraging (especially for those employees) to see people keep their jobs. The longer-term ramifications for the profession, whether that is in confidence in the partnership model, or the degree of competition at the top end of the market, will take much longer to work through.

This piece first appeared on economia.

Photograph: Getty Images

Richard Cree is the Editor of Economia.

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Why is it called Storm Doris? The psychological impact of naming a storm

“Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person.”

“Oh, piss off Doris,” cried the nation in unison this morning. No, it wasn't that everyone's local cantankerous old lady had thwacked our ankles with her stick. This is a different, more aggressive Doris. Less Werther’s, more extreme weathers. Less bridge club, more bridge collapse.

This is Storm Doris.

A storm that has brought snow, rain, and furious winds up to 94mph to parts of the UK. There are severe weather warnings of wind, snow and ice across the entire country.

But the real question here is: why is it called that? And what impact does the new Met Office policy of naming storms have on us?

Why do we name storms?

Storm Doris is the latest protagonist in the Met Office’s decision to name storms, a pilot scheme introduced in winter 2015/16 now in its second year.

The scheme was introduced to draw attention to severe weather conditions in Britain, and raise awareness of how to prepare for them.

How do we name storms?

The Name our Storms initiative invites the public to suggest names for storms. You can do this by tweeting the @metoffice using the #nameourstorms hashtag and your suggestion, through its Facebook page, or by emailing them.

These names are collated along with suggestions from Met Éireann and compiled into a list. These are whittled down into 21 names, according to which were most suggested – in alphabetical order and alternating between male and female names. This is done according to the US National Hurricane Naming convention, which excludes the letters Q, U, X, Y and Z because there are thought to be too few common names beginning with these letters.

They have to be human names, which is why suggestions in this list revealed by Wired – including Apocalypse, Gnasher, Megatron, In A Teacup (or Ena Tee Cup) – were rejected. The Met Office received 10,000 submissions for the 2016/17 season. According to a spokesperson, a lot of people submit their own names.

Only storms that could have a “medium” or “high” wind impact in the UK and Ireland are named. If there are more than 21 storms in a year, then the naming system starts from Alpha and goes through the Greek alphabet.

The names for this year are: Angus (19-20 Nov ’16), Barbara (23-24 Dec 2016), Conor (25-26 Dec 2016), Doris (now), Ewan, Fleur, Gabriel, Holly, Ivor, Jacqui, Kamil, Louise, Malcolm, Natalie, Oisín, Penelope, Robert, Susan, Thomas, Valerie and Wilbert.

Why does this violent storm have the name of an elderly lady?

Doris is an incongruous name for this storm, so why was it chosen? A Met Office spokesperson says they were just at that stage in their list of names, and there’s no link between the nature of the storm and its name.

But do people send cosy names for violent weather conditions on purpose? “There’s all sorts in there,” a spokesperson tells me. “People don’t try and use cosy names as such.”

What psychological impact does naming storms have on us?

We know that giving names to objects and animals immediately gives us a human connection with them. That’s why we name things we feel close to: a pet owner names their cat, a sailor names their boat, a bore names their car. We even name our virtual assistants –from Microsoft’s Clippy to Amazon’s Alexa.

This gives us a connection beyond practicality with the thing we’ve named.

Remember the response of Walter Palmer, the guy who killed Cecil the Lion? “If I had known this lion had a name and was important to the country or a study, obviously I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “Nobody in our hunting party knew before or after the name of this lion.”

So how does giving a storm a name change our attitude towards it?

Evidence suggests that we take it more seriously – or at least pay closer attention. A YouGov survey following the first seven named storms in the Met Office’s scheme shows that 55 per cent of the people polled took measures to prepare for wild weather after hearing that the oncoming storm had been named.

“There was an immediate acceptance of the storm names through all media,” said Gerald Fleming, Head of Forecasting at Met Éireann, the Irish metereological service. “The severe weather messages were more clearly communicated.”

But personalising a storm can backfire. A controversial US study in 2014 by PNAC (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences) claimed that hurricanes with female names lead to higher death tolls – the more “feminine” the name, like Belle or Cindy, the higher the death toll. This is not because female names are attached to more severe storms; it is reportedly because people take fewer steps to prepare for storms with names they perceive to be unintimidating or weak.

“In judging the intensity of a storm, people appear to be applying their beliefs about how men and women behave,” Sharon Shavitt, a co-author of the study, told the FT at the time. “This makes a female-named hurricane . . . seem gentler and less violent.”

Names have social connotations, and affect our subconscious. Naming a storm can raise awareness of it, but it can also affect our behaviour towards it.

What’s it like sharing a name with a deadly storm?

We should also spare a thought for the impact sharing a name with a notorious weather event can have on a person. Katrina Nicholson, a nurse who lives in Glasgow, says it was “horrible” when the 2005 hurricane – one of the fifth deadliest ever in the US – was given her name.

“It was horrible having something so destructive associated with my name. Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person,” she tells me over email. “I actually remember at the time meeting an American tourist on a boat trip in Skye and when he heard my name he immediately linked it to the storm – although he quickly felt guilty and then said it was a lovely name! I think to this day there will be many Americans who hate my name because of it.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.