Any other business

Christopher Fildes on international accounting standards   How gratifying. One set of rules for the whole world, and all of them springing from a fountainhead in Cannon Street, London EC4. There will have been no such display of global authority since the sun set on the British empire. Washington is warming to it. Brussels is restive. These are the rules that set the standards for companies reporting on their financial affairs to their shareholders. They come from the International Accounting Standards Board, and they are accepted in more and more centres where shares are traded, from London to Beijing.

In eight years in venture capital, my partners and I have met only a handful of female applicants for capital. Yet we receive 500 to 600 business plans every year. It seems remarkable when you consider that women figure prominently in almost all walks of life — over 50 per cent of medical-school graduates, for example. Indeed, there have been so few that each encounter stands out. Our firm had been going for about a year when we were approached by a very imposing lady with plans for a software company. She was introduced by our accountant, but a little background digging revealed a history of bad debts — including a debt to our accountant, who clearly saw a venture-capital refinancing as the solution — and an insolvency.

How times change: the ECB has become the very model of a modern central bank I don’t suppose many of my readers took part in the European Central Bank’s tenth birthday celebrations last week — but if I’m wrong about Jean-Claude Trichet’s taste in columnists, then bon anniversaire, monsieur le président, though I can’t quite bring myself to add beaucoup des retours heureux.

David Craig, a pioneer of the British hedge-fund industry, recalls lessons learned from John Paulson, the New York investor who topped last year’s global earnings league New York in the mid-1990s: my long-time investing partner Richard Atkinson and I were in the city seeking out people with whom we might co- invest. We had run our own fund — reputed to be the first hedge fund in London — for 11 years, and had progressed to a stage where we thought we were getting good at this sort of talent-spotting. Nonetheless, we were particularly wary of getting fleeced by second-rate opportunists, or worse, fraudsters. We could only avoid that by rigorously counselling with a network of in-the-know types who could help with our due diligence processes.

Christopher Silvester says you don’t have to be rich to invest in fine wine, and the rewards can be handsome Wine as an investment asset class intimidates most people, who mistakenly assume it is a rich man’s game when in actuality it is open to anyone who is prepared to commit a few thousand quid and wait for a few years. In the distant past the only game in town was to buy through wine merchants, but in the last quarter of a century a new breed of wine investment company has emerged. These are much the same as advisory stockbrokers, in that they choose a portfolio for you and trade it on your behalf. In the last ten years a handful of wine investment funds, operating on a similar basis to long-only equity funds, has joined the party.

On the face of it, I picked a bad week to volunteer to write about the rebirth of gentlemanly capitalism. My thesis was that the credit crunch would lead to a profound shift in the way the City goes about its business, heralding a return — if not to bowler hats and brollies, liquid lunches and civilised working hours — then at least to an environment where longstanding relationships once again took precedence over the quick buck. After two decades in which the City appeared to have adopted Caveat Emptor as its new motto, I reckoned this financial crisis would bring about the restoration of its old one, Dictum Meum Pactum: ‘My word is my bond.’ But last week, bowler hats did make a comeback in a way that no one had expected.