OFT writes to 240 payday lenders to warn them over poor practices

The legal loan sharks have been cautioned.

After publishing further guidance on debt collection, the Office for Fair Trading (OFT) has now written to all 240 payday lenders operating in the UK after starting an investigation in February 2012 to investigate how lenders carry out debt repayments after it was revealed there were "emerging concerns" over poor practice. 

The guidance by the OFT clarifies what is expected when using continuous payment authority (a method of payment via debit or credit card to a company one wishes to make regular payments to) to recover debts, and it is high time guidance was clear on this issue.

Many companies have been found to use tactics that could very well be described as bullying and intimidation. Even well-known lenders like Wonga were warned by the OFT to stop sending letters to its customers accusing them of committing fraud

The worst example of debt recovery from a payday lender I have heard of is from the company CIM Technologies Ltd, also known as Tooth Fairy Finance. Action was taken on them by the OFT in 2010 to stop them from taking advantage of continuous payment authority but varying the repayment dates for loans taken out and the amount payable on each installment.

On a post written up on the Credit Action Group forum, one member writes what it was like being a customer of Tooth Fairy. After taking out a loan of £100, failing to meet a payment and having requests of an extended payback period fall on deaf ears, the person alleges that Tooth Fairy then decided to:

  • [Call] my home number on a daily basis leaving information regarding who they are and my private account with them, that is that I have an outstanding loan and how much it was for, leaving the information open to third parties.
  • [Send] me various emails each day telling me that they are adding fines to my loan.
  • [Threaten] me with bailiffs and bankruptcy – for a £100 loan? I don’t think so. They also said they would send bailiffs to all known addresses to collect goods up to nine times the value of the debt.
  • [Tell] me they have passed my file to a solicitor and they are charging me £150 for this to be done. I have not heard from any solicitor or any debt collection agency (West Yorkshire Security Debt Collections) whom they say they have also consulted with.

Another post on the group claims that the borrower would hear nothing from the company for weeks, even while charges were still clocking up, and that Tooth Fairy avoided going through normal procedures of lateness charges or debt plans.

But better debt collection methods is just one element of the wider concern about how the payday lending industry is regulated.

David Fisher, director of consumer credit at the OFT, said earlier this year that he hoped the Financial Conduct Authority (or FCA – which will eventually replace the OFT in responsibility of consumer credit regulation) would bring the prospect of greater regulation, as at present there is “a very light-touch regime”. 

Though even getting close to this is proving problematic as efforts are still being made to add an amendment on the Financial Services Bill to give the FCA power to cap the total cost of credit. Until such regulatory common sense is considered then lenders will still have free terrain over vulnerable consumers. 

Update

A representative of Web Loans Processing, the parent company of Toothfairy Finance, has asked us to clarify a couple of points in the article. We are happy to do so, and to note that the Financial Ombudsman has not ruled against Toothfairy with regards to any non-paying clients:

The Article makes comments regarding bailiffs, solicitors, added fees and regular contact with customers via email and phone; a little research would have quickly identified all this as standard practice when bailiffs are recovering debt, even for high street banks.

Further, maintaining regular and consistent contact with clients is a requirement of any credit licence. Toothfairy Finance works with its customers and we are happy to discuss any questions or issues they may have. For direct help, please email us.

 
A shark. Not a loan shark. Photograph: Getty Images

Carl Packman is a writer, researcher and blogger. He is the author of the forthcoming book Loan Sharks to be released by Searching Finance. He has previously published in the Guardian, Tribune Magazine, The Philosopher's Magazine and the International Journal for Žižek Studies.
 

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era