In all the gushing over Netflix, there's room for caution

The reaction is predicable. The share price is not.

With a certain depressing predictability, the newspapers today are gushing in their praise for Netflix. The US-headquartered service now streams video to US 29.17m subscribers, up just over 2m since the start of the year, enabling it to claim to be the most watched network in the US.

Netflix added another 1m streaming members outside the US in the first quarter, bringing total international subscribers to 7.1m. It currently offers its service in Canada, Latin America and since early 2012, the UK. Netflix’s first quarter results provided a further boost to a share price that has been skyrocketing of late: at the end of last September, the share price was $55.

Since then, the share price has risen almost four-fold to $213. According to Netflix, its future success will be boosted by producing original content. The sum total of its original content to date is the grand total of one programme; that requires a generous definition of original, namely a remake of House of Cards.

It currently charges £6.99 per month in the UK; by contrast, the BBC licence fee seems really quite a snip. Just before potential investors empty the piggy bank and rush to invest in Netflix shares, they might care to reflect on the nature of this market sector. Netflix’s main rivals, the Amazon-owned LoveFilm and HBO, are not going to go away any time soon and can be expected to fight back.

If and when Amazon bids more aggressively for the rights to film and TV shows, the acquisition costs for Netflix cannot but rise. Also, as a number of sharper analysts have spotted, Netflix may have cash flow challenges, with $3.3bn in off-balance sheet content liabilities and only around $1bn in cash. As for producing further fresh content: House of Cards cost around $100m to produce. At that sort of cost, do not expect too many headline grabbing productions of that calibre to follow any time soon.

One other thing jumps out from the first quarter Netflix results and that is how way out the performance of the firm is compared to the management predictions. If the firms own management finds it so hard to predict its performance, heaven knows how the analyst community will get on in their forecasts.

Investors may get lucky and Netflix could be an acquisition target for an Apple or a Microsoft in the coming months. On the other hand, the shares are wildly volatile; not shares one would suggest for savings put away for a rainy day.

Photograph: Getty Images

Douglas Blakey is the editor of Retail Banker International

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The footie is back. Three weeks in and what have we learned so far?

Barcleys, boots and big names... the Prem is back.

Another season, another reason for making whoopee cushions and giving them to Spurs fans to cheer them up during the long winter afternoons ahead. What have we learned so far?

Big names are vital. Just ask the manager of the Man United shop. The arrival of Schneiderlin and Schweinsteiger has done wonders for the sale of repro tops and they’ve run out of letters. Benedict Cumberbatch, please join Carlisle United. They’re desperate for some extra income.

Beards are still in. The whole Prem is bristling with them, the skinniest, weediest player convinced he’s Andrea Pirlo. Even my young friend and neighbour Ed Miliband has grown a beard, according to his holiday snaps. Sign him.

Boots Not always had my best specs on, but here and abroad I detect a new form of bootee creeping in – slightly higher on the ankle, not heavy-plated as in the old days but very light, probably made from the bums of newborn babies.

Barclays Still driving me mad. Now it’s screaming from the perimeter boards that it’s “Championing the true Spirit of the Game”. What the hell does that mean? Thank God this is its last season as proud sponsor of the Prem.

Pitches Some groundsmen have clearly been on the weeds. How else can you explain the Stoke pitch suddenly having concentric circles, while Southampton and Portsmouth have acquired tartan stripes? Go easy on the mowers, chaps. Footballers find it hard enough to pass in straight lines.

Strips Have you seen the Everton third kit top? Like a cheap market-stall T-shirt, but the colour, my dears, the colour is gorgeous – it’s Thames green. Yes, the very same we painted our front door back in the Seventies. The whole street copied, then le toot middle classes everywhere.

Scott Spedding Which international team do you think he plays for? I switched on the telly to find it was rugby, heard his name and thought, goodo, must be Scotland, come on, Scotland. Turned out to be the England-France game. Hmm, must be a member of that famous Cumbrian family, the Speddings from Mirehouse, where Tennyson imagined King Arthur’s Excalibur coming out the lake. Blow me, Scott Spedding turns out to be a Frenchman. Though he only acquired French citizenship last year, having been born and bred in South Africa. What’s in a name, eh?

Footballers are just so last season. Wayne Rooney and Harry Kane can’t score. The really good ones won’t come here – all we get is the crocks, the elderly, the bench-warmers, yet still we look to them to be our saviour. Oh my God, let’s hope we sign Falcao, he’s a genius, will make all the difference, so prayed all the Man United fans. Hold on: Chelsea fans. I’ve forgotten now where he went. They seek him here, they seek him there, is he alive or on the stairs, who feckin’ cares?

John Stones of Everton – brilliant season so far, now he is a genius, the solution to all of Chelsea’s problems, the heir to John Terry, captain of England for decades. Once he gets out of short trousers and learns to tie his own laces . . .

Managers are the real interest. So refreshing to have three young British managers in the Prem – Alex Neil at Norwich (34), Eddie Howe at Bournemouth (37) and that old hand at Swansea, Garry Monk, (36). Young Master Howe looks like a ball boy. Or a tea boy.

Mourinho is, of course, the main attraction. He has given us the best start to any of his seasons on this planet. Can you ever take your eyes off him? That handsome hooded look, that sarcastic sneer, the imperious hand in the air – and in his hair – all those languages, he’s so clearly brilliant, and yet, like many clever people, often lacking in common sense. How could he come down so heavily on Eva Carneiro, his Chelsea doctor? Just because you’re losing? Yes, José has been the best fun so far – plus Chelsea’s poor start. God, please don’t let him fall out with Abramovich. José, we need you.

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 27 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Isis and the new barbarism