Yes, my energy company makes a profit. So what?

Time for a more objective debate.

Last week the Labour Party released figures highlighting that the major energy companies collectively had made increased profit levels from their generation and supply businesses since the last general election.  This theme is one that requires an objective public debate as the UK faces up to the energy challenges that lie ahead.

I understand that some people, many of whom may be Labour Party members, believe that utilities – like the company I lead – should never have been privatised and so any level of profit is unacceptable.  That’s a perfectly legitimate view to hold, but it is not the policy of any leading political party.  For as long as energy companies are privatised and shareholder-owned companies we are required to pay our shareholders a return on their investment.

That being so, surely the real question – if I may be so bold – is: what level of profit is reasonable for a publically listed energy company to make? Clearly we provide a vital service and so we cannot make unfettered profits.  But we have been very clear for some time now that in domestic energy supply we target a profit margin that averages just five per cent over the medium term.  Recent polling suggests that most people think that is a reasonable amount to make. Indeed, it’s a smaller margin than most food retailers and in recent years our Energy Supply business has made less than that. The overall profits might seem high, but they come from almost ten million customer accounts.

Labour looked beyond supply and also examined the generation side of our businesses.  It’s true that profit margins here can be higher but they are absolutely necessary to support inherently riskier, more complex investments like power stations. And why do we need that investment? To deliver on the energy policy commitments of this government and the ones before it.

For years now energy policy has been aimed at decarbonising the UK’s energy system. The Climate Change Act of 2008, supported across the political spectrum, requires slashing carbon emissions by 80 per cent on 1990 levels by 2050. To do this without drastic changes to all of our lifestyles, most of the burden of this will fall on the electricity generation sector, where highly polluting power stations will have to close and be replaced with more expensive, low-carbon alternatives. I don’t disagree with this aim – quite the opposite – but politicians, the media and indeed the general public must all confront the fact that these policies come with a price tag.

Once you bring in necessary upgrades in the regulated transportation infrastructure, oft-quoted government estimates put the amount of private sector investment needed by 2020 at as much as £110bn. Whatever the final sum, it will require an awful lot of investment decisions to be made. And if each individual investment does not stand alone economically, it cannot be undertaken. Therefore the sheer increase in volumes of this investment will mean that, even if profit margins per investment are not increasing, the absolute level of profit will have to increase. It is a simple fact of economics.

Where the profit then goes is also critical. At SSE we are proud to invest only in the UK and Ireland, and we use the British supply chain where we can too, such as the £500m we put into it when developing our Greater Gabbard wind farm off the Suffolk coast. As a UK-listed company we pay tax on our profits here in the UK (£369m last year), we employ around 20,000 people across the UK and Ireland – many in remote areas where such jobs are invaluable to the local economy – and we also invest in R&D, skills, training and apprenticeships.  

I accept we have a unique role in the UK society and with that privilege comes responsibility. I have also been around long enough to know that Labour’s focus on the big energy companies is a fact of political life in a functioning democracy, but this over-simplification of profits failed to take account of how this profit underpins vital investment and services that help the country to function.  I am not pretending SSE or other companies are perfect, but that must not stop us from having a genuine debate around the future of energy in the UK and how we are going to pay for it through proper economic investment.

For customers, higher group profits will clearly be difficult to reconcile with the increases they have seen in prices in recent years. But this debate is too important to be reduced to just prices versus profits. For all the investment we make, we estimate that only 15 per cent of a typical bill is within our direct control. It’s time for government, opposition and industry alike to have an open, objective conversation about how to meet the challenges ahead of us while protecting customers from rising costs.
 

Photograph: Getty Images

Alistair Phillips-Davies is Chief Executive of SSE plc

Getty
Show Hide image

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