Prepare to be wrong about Sky

Cheers among the chattering classes.

Prepare to be wrong about Sky.

When BSkyB shares dipped recently there was more than a little cheer among certain parts of the UK's chattering classes. For many, especially those on the liberal, intelligent left Sky's Murdoch links, anti-intellectual approach and opposition to the BBC makes them feel that their subscription, bought on the basis that football is, after all, the stuff of life, smacks of hypocrisy. And hell hath no fury as a middle-class liberal made aware of their own hypocrisy.

Sky's dominance as a sport broadcaster, its presence in pubs and bars (even the rough ones) and its almost sacrilegious pokes at the BBC do not win it many friends.

But strip away the schadenfreude and the share price movement was entirely predictable. The initial drop in share price after the results were released was obviously just a reflection of profit taking rather than an indication of weaknesses in the business. The results themselves highlight the strengths of BSB, not least a solid strategy in the face of a confused and complex media scene.

Sky's great strength is that is has a good share of a market that is comfortable with a monthly subscription and eager for cross-platform services and content. It already has 35 per cent of its customers buying into the cross-platform offer.

Younger consumers don't understand annual licences and have no more interest in maintaining the BBC, or any other traditional broadcast operator or news provider come to that, than they have in buying newspapers.

The BSkyB investment strategy does not have to take into account legacy services of the sort that will, for many of its rivals, become an ever greater burden.

BT's foray into sport broadcasting is much lauded and gets positive media attention - mostly for all the wrong reasons. However, it does show that BT is serious about becoming a media player. It is determined to offer content as well as technology and infrastructure. That said, Ian Livingstone has departed and BSkyB is not going to wait around while rivals try to catch up.

Photograph: Getty Images

Spencer Neal is a reformed publisher who now advises on media and stakeholder relations at Keeble Brown. He writes about the ironies and hypocrisies that crop up in other peoples' businesses. He is also an optimist.

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear