Martin Vander Weyer

More women in the boardroom? Never mind the equality, watch the performance Successful businesswomen may scoff at the proposal of quotas for women in boardrooms — and many men will dismiss it as Euro-correctness gone mad (see Matthew Lynn, page 17). But I suggest that anyone who hopes to collect a private pension should welcome the idea, for purely selfish reasons. A report by former trade minister Lord Davies of Abersoch this week was expected to call for ‘voluntary targets’ to bring the proportion of women directors of FTSE 350 companies up to one in four by 2015, compared to current ratios of one in eight for the top hundred companies and one in 13 for the next 250.

Another reason to cut bankers’ pay: the softer the product, the easier the job Is it harder to run a country or a global company? Variations of this dinner- party gambit cropped up wherever I went last week, offering a way of drawing together half a dozen business stories and political arguments. So here’s this week’s Any Other Business competition. Place the following in descending order of the difficulty of their jobs: David Cameron, George Osborne, Bob Dudley, Stephen Elop, Marius Kloppers, António Horta-Osório and Gerald Jones. Bob Dudley is the American who was recently promoted to chief executive of BP and is now dug in on the Russian front.

Which would you rather save – your local library or a County Hall paper-pusher? What a curious double life I lead. Half the week I’m your disembodied commentator from the world of high finance — my anonymity protected, as I truffle for City gossip, by a portrait drawing that (I’m told) doesn’t look like me at all. For the other half, I’m one of the north of England’s most hyperactive citizens, blundering like Flashman from one battlefield of the cuts debate to the next. Last week, for example, I was discussing library closures on Monday, police manpower reductions on Tuesday, the crunch in higher education on Wednesday, and doomsday scenarios for the arts on Thursday and Friday.

Privatising forests must be a sensible policy if so many celebs are against it The more passionate the outcry against the government’s plan to privatise its English forestry estate, the more I feel the urge to cash in my meagre investments and bid for one of the forests in question myself. For a start, any policy which attracts the opposition of Tracey Emin, Ken Livingstone and Dame Vivienne Westwood is likely, on close examination, to be entirely sensible. And a holding of woodland is, after all, the perfect answer to my twin concerns for the immediate future, expressed here last month, of inflation and social disorder.

Interim findings from my Really Independent Commission on banking reform The Warden of All Souls, Sir John Vickers, has revealed the outlines of what he thinks about banking reform, so perhaps the Warden of Any Other Business — that’s me — should do likewise. Vickers, a former Bank of England economist, is chairman of the Independent Commission on Banking, which will publish interim findings in April and conclusions in September. Its objective is to recommend ways to stabilise the banking system and make it more competitive, while reassuring savers that their money is safe without implicit or explicit government guarantee.

Rising petrol prices and the death of Nigel increase my sense of foreboding I returned from a New Year expedition to the Dordogne laden with wine, walnuts and a deep sense of foreboding — not provoked by the mood of rural France, which felt unchangingly placid, but by what I’ve been reading and hearing about Britain and the rest of the world. The fund manager Jonathan Ruffer convinced me some time ago that inflation would be the next big peril. With retail prices now rising three times faster than pay, petrol dearer by the day, and food and clothing following the upward spike of commodity markets, the monster is upon us.

A knighthood for the last banker who put his shareholders’ interests first The New Year honours list is always a vivid indicator of the times just gone by. No brand better encapsulated the feelgood consumer frenzy of the last decade than Lush, the purveyor of organic soaps and Fairtrade lotions alongside campaigns to save sharks and rainforests, whose name has (perhaps coincidentally, but it can’t have done sales any harm) become slang for something luxurious and desirable. Lush’s founding couple, Mark and Mo Constantine, collect an OBE apiece.

In the land of my Flemish forefathers, I draw a key lesson for 2011: always have a Plan B To Ghent, in the land of my ancestors, to address a conclave of ‘risk managers’. Though the mother tongue of most participants is Dutch or French, the conference is in English — and I feel obliged to explain that despite my surname that’s what I shall speak too, because it’s 200 years since my silkweaving Flemish forefathers moved from Antwerp to Norwich to take advantage of a tax scheme for migrant craftsmen that would no doubt now be banned by EU ‘single market’ rules.

From elections to ash clouds, 2010 was a year that taught us to expect the unexpected This was a year of predictable trends and unpredictable events. It was predictable that the UK would limp out of recession behind France, Germany and the US, and a reasonable bet both that we would avoid a double dip and that we would not avoid a burst of inflation. Observation of past cycles made it easy to predict that banks would return to profit while brutalising their customers and showing no remorse. Many economists had foreseen a crisis of the euro since the day it was dreamed up, because they did not believe a single currency could work without fiscal and political union: they were right, and despite successive bailouts, that crisis will gather momentum into 2011.

Why the Governor is in the soup — and how I got the soup into the Governor I’m no WikiLeaker, but I am prepared to reveal that I have, on two occasions, lunched à deux with Professor Mervyn King in his private dining room at the Bank of England. Not a single word of what he said will appear in this column or anywhere else. But I think it’s probably OK to tell you about the soup. As soon as this smoothly indeterminate vegetable concoction was served at our first encounter, the Governor filled his spoon, raised it halfway to his mouth, and embarked on a tour d’horizon to which, having been a notably slow student of economics long ago, I felt able only to reply ‘Mmm’.

What Ireland lacks now are statesmen who can make the case that recovery is possible The screen at Manchester airport tells me I’m about to board an Aer Lingus flight to Dublin, but there’s a Lufthansa plane at the gate. ‘Blimey,’ I mutter, ‘this bailout’s moving fast.’ I’m looking at the wrong gate, however, and it’s an Aer Lingus stewardess who becomes the first of many people during my 36-hour visit to wish me ‘the best of luck’. Luck looms large in the Irish psyche and it’s what they long for right now — an oil find would help, I hear one passenger remark — plus a bit less attention from world markets and media.

My tip for enterprise tsar from Cameron’s list of loads-of-money peers: Lord Fellowes of Downton Who, I wonder, will advise David Cameron on entrepreneurship now that Lord Young of Graffham has been fed to the sharks by the Downing Street crew for his unguarded remark that in this ‘so-called recession… most people have never had it so good’?

Caught between EU politicking and market sharks, the Irish deserve sympathy not scorn My sympathies are with the Irish as they find themselves being shoved towards an EU bailout which they regard as a loss of hard-won sovereignty — and it’s pointless to go on scoffing at their earlier eagerness to enjoy the low euro interest rates and fountains of Brussels subsidy that fuelled the grotesque real-estate boom which ended in spectacular bust. Unlike the Greeks, the Irish accepted the need for severe austerity measures without rioting or recrimination. But their tiny economy, one fifteenth the size of Britain’s, is now a pawn in a double game.

Disappointed, discouraged – but American optimism will soon start to return Philadelphia ‘We should always love America, not for its leaders — who generally turn out as disappointing as our own — but for its vitality, its collective belief in the possibility of renewal.’ That’s what I wrote from Los Angeles, exactly two years ago, having flown into the blissed-out Californian version of post-election Obama-mania, which all too briefly vanquished the clouds of financial crisis. Crossing the pond again, this time to Atlanta and Philadelphia, I find the clouds have closed in and the economic mood is, by American standards, strikingly downbeat.

Change is coming to the City – but let’s notget excited about a tacky shopping centre One New Change sounds like an unambitious and probably tautologous political slogan, but it’s actually a postal address. New Change is a cut-through from Cheapside to Cannon Street, ‘Change’ in this context being an old version of Exchange, as in ‘on change, amongst the merchants’, in Dickens’s A Christmas Carol.

I was acting and directing at Helmsley Arts Centre last week, in a little piece of ‘café theatre’ performed in the bar to an audience of only 50. But it was a sell-out every night and, I hope, a light-hearted distraction for the citizens of my Yorkshire town from all that gloomy talk about cuts, more cuts — and who deserves to be cut most. I was acting and directing at Helmsley Arts Centre last week, in a little piece of ‘café theatre’ performed in the bar to an audience of only 50. But it was a sell-out every night and, I hope, a light-hearted distraction for the citizens of my Yorkshire town from all that gloomy talk about cuts, more cuts — and who deserves to be cut most.

If I hear one more clunking metaphor about how we’re trapped in the debt mine but there’s light at the end of the tunnel, I think I’ll bury myself in the garden. If I hear one more clunking metaphor about how we’re trapped in the debt mine but there’s light at the end of the tunnel, I think I’ll bury myself in the garden. But the grit, faith and, most of all, mutual support of the Chilean 33 have given us a new role model and it would be churlish to deny their political leaders — who just happened to be there at the time — a global curtain call. President Pinera looked so pleased with himself in London this week that I half expected to see him shimmy across the Strictly dancefloor waving a winning lottery ticket.

‘A jolly nice little place for lunch, handy because you can get to it on a number 11 bus.’ That was a senior partner of Cazenove the stockbrokers talking about the Savoy in the days when captains of industry and City grandees treated its Grill as their canteen — and my predecessor Christopher Fildes, who nicknamed it the Dealmakers’ Arms, was often at the captains’ tables. ‘A jolly nice little place for lunch, handy because you can get to it on a number 11 bus.