Cash in the attic: the City of London. Photograph: Getty Images.
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UK businesses have plenty of cash to spare, and they're spending it on the young

Companies are starting to use their cash balances in at least one useful way, to provide training programmes for able young people as an alternative to university.

Companies are awash with cash. They’ve been hoarding a war chest since the financial crisis hit in 2008. It has achieved ridiculous proportions; in the US and UK corporate bank balances have doubled in size, Japan has recently seen a spike while Europe has also built a buffer, if not to the extent of other regions. However the signs are that companies are beginning to deploy this money – especially in the UK.

There are the obvious things like share buy-backs, and mergers and acquisitions, that you can do with excess corporate money, but more encouragingly companies are beginning to think in a new way about the next generation of people working in their businesses. Increasingly, a new form of sponsorship is emerging. In moves not seen for a generation, companies such as the accountants Deloittes are hiring young people into their businesses as an alternative to going to university. Business is beginning to invest in young people, filling the gap left by universities that offer courses of doubtful relevance at prices that are just too high.

The general public is smart enough to detect the whiff of corporate insincerity in any charm offensive – tokenistic community-based projects will be seen through as box ticking Corporate Responsibility initiatives that offer little lasting relevance. Businesses will only truly “put something back” if given the right incentive to do so and there is nothing like the profit and cost motive to do that especially in the new era of shareholder activism. The Labour Party’s newly announced policy to “tax the bankers” to provide youth training schemes in that respect, once more, misses the mark. It misses the mood of the day, that there is a new dynamic at work that will see companies investing in young people because it makes business sense.

Sadly, the negativity towards business identified in The Trust Deficit: After the Crash by the research group Populus for the legal firm DLA Piper, is reinforced by mainstream economists like David Blanchflower and politicians like Ed Miliband. Writing in The Independent this week Blanchflower indulges himself in yet another populist diatribe which offers little except the tired observation that some people have more money than others and because of the way unemployment in this downturn has hit the non-graduate pay grades, the income gap between them and graduates has increased in the past five years.

What Miliband and Blanchflower both miss is that if pay structures in certain parts of the economy aren’t sustainable or aren’t valued then they won’t last – they will wither and die of their own accord. It does not need a tax – it does not need a law for that to happen. Besides, with the economy picking up, they are starting to sound somewhat behind the evidence. We don’t have an incomes policy and we don’t, thank goodness, have a limit on what any individual can earn in our country and long may that last. Treating the lawful activity of whoever it is in society who earns super-normal money (which in turn feeds the Exchequer) whether that is a footballer, pop star, entertainer, private company director, public company director or, yes I’m going to say it, a “banker” as immoral is an otiose argument which only has currency at the trough of the economic cycle. That moment has passed.

In a capitalist system, like ours, you will always have cycles. Capitalism is, in that sense, inherently unstable and liable to peaks and troughs – Karl Marx appreciated that. This requires the existence of a safety net to catch people when they fall. That is the implicit social contract we are involved in. But in this downswing a new part of the safety net has emerged – one which protects talented young people from the penalty of government education policies. It is one which will see companies deploying their cash reserves, taking on a positive role in shaping the next generation of workers by helping them over barriers to entry into higher earnings via education no matter their background. Getting the administration – and opposition – of the day to cooperate with and praise that idea is much more useful than replaying tired class war ideas that send the wrong messages to our young people about the possibilities of work and what business contributes to society.

Head of Fixed Income and Macro, Old Mutual Global Investors

Qusai Al Shidi/Flickr
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I can’t follow Marie Kondo's advice – even an empty Wotsits packet “sparks joy” in me

I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I have been brooding lately on the Japanese tidying freak Marie Kondo. (I forgot her name so I typed “Japanese tidying freak” into Google, and it was a great help.) The “Japanese” bit is excusable in this context, and explains a bit, as I gather Japan is more on the case with the whole “being tidy” thing than Britain, but still.

Apart from telling us that we need to take an enormous amount of care, to the point where we perform origami when we fold our underpants, which is pretty much where she lost me, she advises us to throw away anything that does not, when you hold it, “spark joy”. Perhaps I have too much joy in my life. I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

After a while I gave up on this because I was getting a bit too happy with all the memories, so then I thought to myself, about her: “This is someone who isn’t getting laid enough,” and then I decided that was a crude and ungallant thought, and besides, who am I to wag the finger? At least if she invites someone to her bedroom no one is going to run screaming from it, as they would if I invited anyone to my boudoir. (Etym: from the French “bouder”, to sulk. How very apt in my case.) Marie Kondo – should bizarre circumstance ever conspire to bring her to the threshold – would run screaming from the Hovel before she’d even alighted the stairs from the front door.

I contemplate my bedroom. As I write, the cleaning lady is in it. To say that I have to spend half an hour cleaning out empty Wotsits packets, and indeed wotnot, before I let her in there should give you some idea of how shameful it has got. And even then I have to pay her to do so.

A girlfriend who used to be referred to often in these pages, though I think the term should be a rather less flippant one than “girlfriend”, managed to get round my natural messiness problem by inventing a game called “keep or chuck”.

She even made up a theme song for it, to the tune from the old Spiderman TV show. She would show me some object, which was not really rubbish, but usually a book (it may not surprise you to learn that it is the piles of books that cause most of the clutter here), and say, “Keep or chuck?” in the manner of a high-speed game show host. At one point I vacillated and so she then pointed at herself and said, “Keep or chuck?” I got the message.

These days the chances of a woman getting into the bedroom are remote. For one thing, you can’t just walk down the street and whistle for one much as one would hail a cab, although my daughter is often baffled by my ability to attract females, and suspects I have some kind of “mind ray”. Well, if I ever did it’s on the blink now, and not only that – right now, I’m not even particularly bothered that it’s on the blink. Because, for another thing, I would frankly not care to inflict myself upon anyone else at the moment.

It was all a bit of a giggle eight years ago, when I was wheeled out of the family home and left to my own devices. Of course, when I say “a bit of a giggle”, I mean “terrifying and miserable”, but I had rather fewer miles on the clock than I do now, and a man can, I think, get away with a little bit more scampish behaviour, and entertain a few more illusions about the future and his own plausibility as a character, when he is squarely in his mid-forties than when he is approaching, at speed, his middle fifties.

Death has rather a lot to do with it, I suppose. I had not actually seen, or touched, a dead body until I saw, and touched, my own father’s a few weeks ago. That’s what turns an abstract into a concrete reality. You finally put that to one side and gird up your loins – and then bloody David Bowie snuffs it, and you find yourself watching the videos for “Blackstar” and “Lazarus” over and over again, and reach the inescapable conclusion that death is not only incredibly unpleasant, it is also remorseless and very much nearer than you think.

And would you, dear reader, want to be involved with anyone who kept thinking along those lines? I mean, even if he learned how to fold his undercrackers into an upright cylinder, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant, before putting them in his drawer? When he doesn’t even have a drawer?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war