Simon Nixon

We live in frightening times. Markets are in freefall; economies are in turmoil; the financial system is on the brink. People want simple explanations and easy answers. They want to know who to blame for the mess and what can be done to clear it up. Just as well, then, that there is no shortage of politicians ready to fulfil this need. The dictionary defines ‘cant’ as insincere, pious or moralistic talk. If cant was a commodity, it would be the first big bubble of the post-credit-crunch world. Already debate over the credit crunch is being reduced in some quarters to a series of simplistic narratives in which all bankers are greedy, markets are evil, governments are good and capitalism is doomed.

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.

During the boom years, it was fashionable to say that London owed its success as a financial centre partly to the quality of its regulation. Thanks to the Financial Services Authority’s astonishing internal audit of its supervision of Northern Rock, published last week, we can now see what that means. For Northern Rock, the UK’s fabled light-touch regulation was very nearly no-touch regulation. Those charged with supervising the Newcastle-based mortgage lender barely bothered to call on it; when they did, they didn’t know what questions to ask; afterwards, they didn’t bother to keep proper records. With a watchdog like that, no wonder financial services firms flocked to London. Of course, the FSA insists its failures over Northern Rock were a one-off.

Driving through the pretty towns of Speyside, as I did last week, it’s hard to believe you’re at the centre of a booming global industry. As the road follows the course of the river into the Highlands, you can spot the chimneys of the distilleries every few miles. But they’re mostly small-scale and they still retain the look and feel of a cottage industry. At the picturesque Strathisla near Keith, with its traditional pagoda-style malting towers, pretty girls in kilts greet you at the visitor centre. At Glenlivet, I was given a guided tour by a former excise man whose job it once was to police the distillery. There’s tartan everywhere, of course, and cheesy bagpipe CDs in the souvenir shops to go with all the whisky paraphernalia.

As we approach the festive season, spare a thought for the children of billionaires. These are joyless times for those holding out for an inheritance. As they climb aboard the private jet that will whisk them off to the yacht where a team of chefs will prepare their Christmas dinner, many will be wondering if Daddy has already cooked their goose. The super-rich are slaves to fashion. And the latest fashion is giving it away. Bill Gates and Warren Buffett, the world’s wealthiest men, started the trend by pledging to give away around $30 billion each. Now multi-millionaires everywhere are desperate to offload their excess zillions before it has time to damage the kids. The buzz in the City is that philanthropy is back, after a gap of about 100 years.

The World Cup is not really my bag, but already it’s done its bit to pep up my GWB (that’s ‘general wellbeing’, for those not yet fluent in Cameron-speak). Eleven giant posters have been plastered around Bank station featuring Claudia Schiffer draped in a German flag. They’re part of a campaign to encourage investment in Germany and feature saucy slogans such as ‘Want to get down to business?’ and ‘Come over to my place’. Schiffer is an ideal ambassador for Germany. With her hairless armpits and winning smile, the supermodel is a world away from those moustachioed shot-putters who used to fly the flag for German womanhood. In fact, the campaign is such a good idea we should do something similar here. But who would represent Britain?

Simon Nixon says that we must build more motorways – and scrap railway lines Perhaps the most important discovery I have made over the last few years is that the way to stay sane in Britain is never to use public transport. The Department of Health tells us to eat five portions of fruit a day and to give up booze and fags. But what it dare not tell us is that the best way to reduce the risk of a heart attack and a host of other stress-related ailments is never to use the bus, Tube or train when you can drive a car or ride a bicycle instead. I've been thinking a lot about this in the weeks since my fiancée and I found ourselves – for reasons we're still arguing over – facing the wrong way down one of the approach roads to the M11.

Power cuts and rolling blackouts are about as Old Labour as rising taxes and paranoia about spooks, so it should come as no surprise that astute observers of the political scene are stockpiling candles. A report published this week explains why. According to the Institution of Civil Engineers (Ice), Britain is heading for a repeat of the 1974 three-day week, with the government forced to impose power cuts and homes left without light and heat. Ice says these problems will be upon us by 2020, but many industry experts think this is too optimistic.