Do it yourself banking will only work if we can be bothered to do it

Can we?

Last week was a good one for British Banking, for both the industry and its customers. The first sale of shares in one of the part-nationalised banks – at a nominal profit, no less – marked an important first step on the road back to a healthy finance industry. At the same time the advent of the Current Account Switch Service represented a significant shift in the balance of power between retail banks and their customers. Over the next few years, we will see just how significant it is.

I say years, but it may well be longer. Research from the CEBR has predicted only a doubling of account switching frequency over ten years, which seems remarkably low, and is probably more credible, rather than less, for being commissioned by Metro, one of the key challenger banks that stand to benefit from the new service. The much-recited statistic about the average bank account lasting longer than the average marriage is no less odd than it is true, and the CEBR seem to believe that this old habit will die hard.

The truth, however, is that no-one yet knows what the impact will be. On the face of it, the new Current Account Switch Service ought to provide a huge opportunity for the challenger banks, but the established institutions will fight very hard to protect their turf. And, with the advantages of established brand networks, huge marketing budgets and massive reserves of customer data, there’s no doubt that they begin with the upper hand.

Those advantages, however, may not be as robust as they might appear. A ranking of UK banks’ customer service (admittedly assessed alongside the somewhat subjective categories of "honesty" and "integrity") released to coincide with the launch of the Current Account Switch Service, gave a damning verdict on all four of the UK’s biggest retail banks. The same customer satisfaction survey showed a very wide spread of standards as well, with marks ranging from four out of a hundred for one institution, to 89 for another, so this malaise does not affect every company in the industry.

While it may be that the smaller players, the mutuals and the challengers simply have to try harder to counter the incumbent advantages of the big four, the Account Switch Service could mean that their effort translates into growing market share for some of the industry’s smaller players.

In the long term, of course, the Current Account Switch Service will mean that all banks will need to become more customer-centric. That is the inevitable effect of pro-competitive regulation in any industry, and the voice of the customer is likely to have a great deal more influence upon the way that banks will run. The onus will then fall on us, the consumer, to make sure that we communicate clearly with our banks – by taking our custom elsewhere if necessary.

If the Current Account Switch Service works as intended, then dissatisfied customers will simply be able seek better service elsewhere, without any great inconvenience. Poor customer service and other questionable practices may persist, and the institutions that provide them may endure. If they do, however, it will be clear that UK consumers simply have other priorities. Either way, it will show the true colours of what really matters to banking customers in the UK.

For the sake of the economy, and our wellbeing, we can only hope that that is a sensible balance of good value and good service. Those few banks with high customer satisfaction scores do offer something along those lines, and the technology and business know-how needed to do so already exists in most institutions – what will hopefully change is the influence it exerts within them. If the British public do not use their new-found consumer power, then we will have missed a golden opportunity to build a banking industry more in the image of the one we’d all prefer to deal with. After the events of 2008, it was clear that we needed to reform the UK’s retail finance industry. Now that the economy is getting back to its feet, we all have the opportunity help do that.

Photograph: Getty Images

Claire Richardson is VP at Verint

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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