London, UK
So the Home Secretary, Jacqui Smith refuses to resign over her latest “expenses” gaffe. What will it actually take for her to consider her position? Doesn’t she realise that people in public life are there to set an example and show leadership. She does neither – time to go Jacqui.
London, UK
Recently, I’ve noticed that the subject of cultural differences between nations, within multi-national corporations and between peoples keeps on popping up in the media and across the table at suburban dinner parties.
Earlier today, my ears pricked up when Justin Webb, the BBC’s North American Editor, outlined some of his experiences whilst living across the pond. He was being interviewed by Sandi Toksvig on BBC Radio 4′s “Excess Baggage“. He mentioned two things, both of which I’ve encountered when meeting some of our friends from the USA. Firstly, they just don’t get our sense of irony or sarcasm. They really don’t. When we talk with a bit of “edge” whilst on our holidays in California or New York they seem to go all quiet, or say “excuse me?”. Then there’s the prudishness. Webb recounted the time, one summer in North Carolina, his 4-year old child was running in and out of the sea – naked. Certain locals took offence to this and pointed out to him and his wife that there was a local law, or whatever they call it in North Carolina, against beach nudity. For heavens sake, what’s the matter with them these Americans?
London, UK
Staying with the footballing theme, a couple of weeks ago, I met one of my schoolboy footballing heroes. Not Bobby Charlton or Geoff Hurst, but former Margate FC left-half, Bryan Clifton. Bryan, who had just celebrated his 70th birthday, came along to watch Margate FC entertain Horsham. I caught up with him just before kick-off and reminded him of the wonderful goal he scored against the old Brentwood Town in the Southern League on a barmy night in August 1969. On the very next day, printed in the now defunct East Kent Times, the sporting headline read “Bravo Bryan”. It went on to describe Clifton’s 40-yard pile-driver which lashed into the back of the net with just a few minutes of the match remaining. Margate won 1-0. A few weeks later, the late, great Brian Moore speaking on ITV’s “The Big Match” described Bryan as having the hardest shot in non-league football. You can read more about Bryan here.
Forty years on and the Margate FC of 2009 is in a somewhat different state compared to the successful club of Bryan’s era. Since before the partial demolition of the “old” Hartsdown in 2003, the Club has lurched from one crisis to another both on and off the field.
A few days ago, I received a letter from the Club to purchase shares. This follows a resolution by the Directors (and not by EGM) that the Club has decided to issue a further 500,000 shares. I’m not, as a current shareholder, in principle against this but it does beg more questions than answers. When a public company, institution or local authority asks existing shareholders or stakeholders to raise capital by the issue of shares there’s normally a prospectus. A prospectus would outline solid reasons why capital needs to be raised. It should also highlight a company’s total indebtedness, it’s assets and so on. For some reason, no prospectus has been issued. Surely full disclosure of the Club’s finances would help willing investors to carefully consider the Club’s proposition and its current predicament.
As I understand it, Margate Football Club will be wound up in the High Court on April 29th, unless it pays a figure rumoured to be in the region £100,000, to HMRC before or on that date. I’m sure the Club’s Chairman, Keith Piper, will do everything he can to save the Club from extinction and with it 113 years of footballing history. But why the need to ask shareholders and others to stump up £100,000 through this new issue? We know Mr Piper holds around 90,000 shares in the Club’s name. Why weren’t shares offered at a discount to shareholders in the first place? Besides, what will happen if the Club can only raise say £50,000? Moreover, what happens to those funds if the Club is liquidated?
UPDATE – April 29th has been and gone and no mention of the winding-up order. MFC on the pitch has been relegated. Or have they?
London, UK
My uncle Lionel Altman passed away last month. Named after a relative who was killed in action during WWI, had he decided on a speaking career alongside his successful business career, I have no doubt he would have graced the airwaves and international conferences alike. He was a brilliant speaker. His obituary appeared in today’s Times:
Lionel Altman 1922-2009
Two eye-catching London monuments owe their existence in no small part to the energetic lobbying and organisational genius of Lionel Phillips Altman.
On the Embankment on the northern shore of the Thames, the Battle of Britain Monument was established by a committee of which Altman was a key figure. On Great Cumberland Place, near Marble Arch, the memorial to the Swedish diplomat Raoul Wallenberg, who saved thousands of Jews from the gas chambers of Auschwitz by issuing them with Swedish visas — against orders from his foreign ministry — and who is believed to have been executed by the Soviet Union in 1947, was again set up by a group in which Altman played a decisive role.
He earned his living in the motor industry. But the public life of the capital commanded his love, his seemingly inexhaustible energy and much of his spare time. He had a passion for culture and a deep devotion to public service. And he was determined that modern history should be visibly commemorated in London not after the lapse of centuries but within only decades of the years when it was enacted.
Altman was a Londoner born and bred. He was born in Hampstead, went to school there and got his higher education at University College in Gower Street and at the London Business School. The Army sent him to India during the Second World War, and it was there that the secret service took him over. That service engaged him to do a lot of broadcasting for what was then the BBC Overseas Service from Delhi under the radio name of Clive Barrington.
After demobilisation he went to work in the City of London; for the first 16 years for a company called Carmo Holdings. For nine years, from 1963 till 1972, he worked for the financier and property tycoon Sir Charles Clore in his Sears Motor Group and his Sears Financial Services organisation.
The Motor Agents Association, of which he became a council member and ultimately chairman, was his main route into public service. He became chairman also of the Motor Industry Education Consultative Council and produced what became known as the Altman Report into recruitment and training. In that respect he helped to bring the industry into the modern age.
That record also enabled his entry into the Confederation of British Industry, of which he became a council member in 1984, and for 11 years, from 1977 till 1988 he served productively on its industrial policy committee. As evidence of the high regard that he earned from his associates, and the respect they had for his powers of judgment, he was asked to serve away from the motor industry on the consultative committee of the Court of International Arbitration.
But his roots remained firmly in the City of London. He became a Liveryman of the Coach Harness Makers Company, was elected to the City of London Corporation’s Court of Common Council and played a vital role in the Corporation’s Standards committee.
Service on almost any committee that attracted him was automatically open to him. So he became chairman of the Guildhall Arts and Library Committee, a key guardian of the City’s cultural life, and a governor of the Guildhall School of Music and Drama.
He is survived by his fourth wife, Diana, and by a son from his second marriage and two daughters from his third marriage.
Lionel Phillips Altman, CBE, motor industry executive and contributor to London’s public life, was born on September 12, 1922. He died on February 6, 2009, aged 86.
London, UK
Today would have been the 74th birthday of Brian Clough. “Old Big ‘Ead”, as he was affectionately known, was possibly the best manager never to have been made England boss. I was very lucky to meet the great man when co-commentating for BBC Kent at the Burton Albion v Margate F.C. Conference fixture in March 2004. It was just a few months before his death in September that year and we chatted for a few minutes in the half-time interval and he was at his brilliant best despite his rapidly deteriorating health. He was there supporting his son Nigel, the then manager of Burton.
Damned United is a faction film about the 44 days Clough spent at Leeds United. The film stars Michael Sheen and is on general release this week.
London, UK
Every week at the Key Connectors networking group one has to stand up and give a 60 second elevator pitch. This morning was no different. I outlined the benefits of attending one of my Communicate With Clarity workshops then gave the Tip Of The Day.
Many years ago, a sales manager taught me a very valuable lesson. PPP. “Polite Persistency Pays“. A bit cheesy but true. Did you realise that many appointments you gain by telephone cold-calling or prospecting occur on the second, third or even fourth attempt? The biggest reason for failure in this important business area is that many of you just give up. Persistency, as long as its polite, in the end will pay dividends.
So remember PPP, “Polite Persistency Pays“
London, UK
It’s been two weeks since the 09 plates were issued. I live in a very prosperous part of London and have been pretty mobile the past few days and I’ve yet to see a car with an 09 plate.
I’m staring to get concerned about the state of the economy. Are you?
London, UK
Graham Jones latest post highlights the origins of the Web. Unbelievably, he cited this fact:
“At the same time, today, 20 years from the foundation of the Web, still 25% of businesses have yet to even get a web site of any kind. They have a lot of catching up to do. With the pace of change with the World Wide Web, the almost daily development of ideas for Twitter and the likely addition of tactile senses within a year or two – unless your business is keeping up-to-date with these changes you are also going to get left behind”.
London, UK
LIVING ON THE EDGE
THE STORY OF A CREDIT CRUNCH
By Geoff Burch
There was a land that was on the edge of the highest of high cliffs. The people of this land toiled and worked and struggled to make a living. They made things and they grew things. They lived by the strength of their backs and the sweat of their brows.
This life made them strong and resilient and they were proud to tell outsiders that they lived on the edge. They were very competitive with each other and always tried to better one another. Despite this they considered themselves close-knit, probably because they were united by their dislike and suspicion of outsiders.
So, you can imagine their consternation when a strange, silent young stranger occupied a deserted cabin in their land. They decided to check this guy out and it didn’t exactly put their minds at rest to discover that he was exiled from his previous land for treason and sedition. Apparently when he was a young boy, the king of his land had ordered a fabulous magical suit from some internationally renowned tailors. The enchantment of this fabulously expensive bejeweled garment was that if you were stupid, the suit became invisible to you. The king subsequently appeared naked to this boy who was therefore clearly stupid and instead of quietly admitting his disability, went around shouting that the king was “in the altogether!” Fortunately, despite rumours and fairy stories to the contrary, this disgraceful behaviour ceased when the heartbroken tailors gave him a good kicking and the king exiled him. Everyone watching acknowledged their own intelligence and admired the fine suit.
Now, this boy – older and somewhat wiser – lived among the people on the edge and they weren’t happy. Sometimes they would challenge him to say anything critical about them, but he had learned his lesson and said nothing – which gave them no excuse to get rid of him.
Then one day there was a miraculous event. The people awoke one morning to discover that from the top of the cliff, a small bridge had grown. At the other end of the bridge was a small pink fluffy cloud. For weeks people came and viewed the bridge but no one dared set foot on it, but the one day two intrepid young men crossed the bridge into the pink cloud. In there they found a sunlit land with blue birds, rabbits, and trees laden with luscious fruit. On the ground were a scattering of precious gems and metals. The young men picked fruit and treasure and returned across the bridge a lot wealthier than they had been before. Soon more people crossed the bridge to harvest the bounty of the pink cloud. The people celebrated their luck and the only sour note was that the path to the bridge had to pass the strange young man’s cabin – and when he stood outside and watched them, they felt he knew something they didn’t. Sometimes folk would challenge him to tell them.
“OK, what? Go on, what? What’s your problem?”
He would pull a face, shrug his sad shoulders and disappear back behind his front door.
A strange thing about the bridge and the cloud was that the more they were used, the bigger they grew. The bridge became a magnificent sight to see and the cloud was huge and so was the land inside it. In the land was a very beautiful kind of tree that had been in blossom ever since the place had been discovered. The people had wondered what fabulous fruit it would bear. Finally the tree produced large pods which before anyone could pick them erupted into coloured fans. On closer inspection it was clear that these fans were wads of money! Everyone laughed. Their parents had always said, “Money doesn’t grow on trees.” Well now it did. People surged across the bridge with barrow loads of cash, treasure and fruits. Again the only downside was that young man just watching.
With so much wealth literally falling from the trees, why break your back in the fields, wear your fingers to the bone at the lathe, or sweat your life away in a kitchen. People in far-off lands who mainly survived by growing stuff and eating it wanted a share of this wealth. So they either sold their crops to the people on the edge or they started making things for them or they moved to the edge themselves and did the toiling for a handful of the cash.
The people on the edge realized that all this success could be attributed to their superior intellect and that physical effort was far beneath them. They also knew that they never wanted their children to toil with their hands. Intellect brings better rewards. So they built schools and colleges where the young could get intellect from the people who had chosen themselves to be professors.
One of these mighty brains prepared mathematical formula which would show birds how to fly. He crossed the bridge and as the young bluebirds hatched from their eggs, he strutted about holding his lapels reciting this formula to them.
A few weeks later, amazingly, the bluebirds flew. He was carried shoulder-high back across the bridge and given a big gold cup and his own university to be in charge of. Another professor watched the bridge grow and could predict its size each day. The people would gather under his balcony at his university and he would say things like,
“I predict bridge growth to be between 12 and 16%”
And the next day, when it was clearly 15% bigger, he got a cup too!
Another amazing event happened. One day a man harvesting money in the fluffy cloud-land, dropped a bundle down a rabbit hole. He didn’t notice until he got home and realized that he was short a bundle of money. He went back the next day and searched about the tree. Putting his hand down the rabbit hole, he realized that not only was the bundle of money there, but it had doubled in size. For a while he tried putting the odd wad of cash in the rabbit holes and overnight they always doubled. He shared this secret with a very few friends and out of those few friends, this phenomenon only worked for some of them but that didn’t matter because those with the gift could double anyone’s’ money. These men declared themselves bankers or barons of the bridge. Soon the traffic had reversed and everyone was bringing home loads of cash back over the bridge to the cloud.
The young man just watched with that funny annoying puzzled look on his face.
The people from the foreign land were soon handing their cash to the bridge barons to have it doubled. The money doubled, the bridge doubled, and the pink fluffy cloud just grew huge. The more cash they piled into the rabbit holes, the bigger the cloud grew.
Then the people woke up one morning and the bridge had completely collapsed. It had cracked and crumbled and hundreds of pieces had tumbled into the gorge below. The people watched as the pink cloud, now not anchored to anything, started to drift with the wind, which tugged and blew as little wisps and tendrils like candy floss disappeared into the turbulent air. Before their very eyes it was pulled into smaller bits until it was gone as if it had never existed.
“We are ruined!” the horrified crowd cried.
“All our wealth was in that cloud”.
“And so was ours” the people from the foreign land cried angrily, “We will have to go back to growing stuff again.”
The cry went up, “Why did the bridge collapse?”
The professors didn’t know despite their intellect. Then someone said,
“I bet that sly kid knows why the bridge collapsed”
A huge mob went to the young man’s cabin. When he came out they cried,
“Alright smartarse. Why did the bridge collapse?”
The young man sadly replied, “You foolish people. You are asking the wrong question. The question I have been asking myself every day, and what you should have asked yourselves is not why it collapsed, but why it stayed up. What was holding it up in the first place?”
London, UK
One wonders what’s discussed in the board rooms of our national newspapers when one reads this
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