The case for change, in your change

Are there more Scottish banknotes in circulation in the run-up to the independence vote?

Scottish bank notesAs someone regularly engaged in a spot of missionary work north of the border I’m well used to the odd Scots’ fiver or tenner passing through my wallet.

Most Brits are aware that Scotland (and for that matter Northern Ireland and on a subtly different legal basis Gibraltar) have their own banknotes. Even those who have never travelled to the outskirts of the Union will have been landed with one at some point in their lives and been greeted with grumbles and rolling eyes (or even flat refusals) when trying to pass them to a tradesman or shopkeeper outside of their country of origin.

Fortunately I visit Scotland often enough to avoid this particular “sport” (and, both knowing and loving the Scots’ sense of humour, I wonder if it’s the only reason they print them in the first place). I visit Scotland often enough to be able to hold onto them ’til the next time I’m up there.

I also visit Scotland often enough to notice a change in those ethnic fivers and tenners recently.

There seem to be an awful lot more of them.

 

Historical facts

According to the Committee of Scottish Bankers the first Scottish bank to issue banknotes was The Bank of Scotland in 1695. According to the Bank of England’s latest Scottish and Northern Ireland Banknote Issuance report they have been regulated by the British Government since 1845 and have been under the purview of the Bank of England since The Banking Act of 2009. Currently there are three Scottish commercial banks who print their own banknotes – The Bank of Scotland, The Royal Bank of Scotland and Clydesdale bank – and current legislation allows them to do so on the condition that they hold sufficient assets to back their issue.

Of particular note to the conspiracy theorists amongst us is that the issue of Scottish banknotes is not within the power of the devolved Scottish assembly, nor for that matter the British government, it’s entirely down to the commercial banks themselves. This perhaps partly accounts for the anomaly that, whilst they are legal Sterling currency they are not legal tender – not even in Scotland where no currency technically enjoys the status of legal tender; their acceptance is entirely at the discretion of whomsoever one is trying to pass them to.

 

Statistical facts

The Committee of Scottish Bankers website states that “The majority of banknotes circulating in Scotland are issued by the Scottish banks.” It is therefore not surprising that I’m well used to a regular stream of these fivers and tenners passing through my hands when exchanging a crisp English twenty pound note for a Starbucks or a takeaway when I’m up that way. Of late though I seem to be getting back Scottish banknotes almost exclusively and, with the independence referendum just round the corner, that this particular symbol of nationhood seems more prevalent has my spidey-sense tingling more than somewhat.

Scottish Banknotes in circulation - June 2011 to June 2014 (source: Bank of England)

And the Bank of England’s regulatory reports, available online for the last four years, seem to suggest my suspicions may not be entirely groundless. In the three years between June 2011 and June 2014 when these reports are issued, there has been around an 18% increase in Scottish banknotes in circulation, from approximately £3.5bn to the current £4.1bn.

This is hardly a smoking gun of course, but that’s still well ahead of price inflation or GDP. And bearing in mind that they are printed by commercial banks rather than the government – hardly a flourishing sector at the moment – and that they must be backed by assets in order to be printed, that increase does seem something of an, er, achievement to me.

And while the Scottish Nationalist majority in the Scottish Assembly might not have direct control over their printing (at least not yet!) that doesn’t mean a little soft-power isn’t being wielded somewhere.

 

If I were a Scotsman…

On September 18th 2014 Scotland will vote on independence from the United Kingdom and, without wishing to appear dismissive, as an Englishman I don’t really care much which way the vote goes. I mean, for me, what really changes? It’s not like Sultan Salmond will be sawing Scotland off at Carlisle and towing it away the minute he’s freed from the imperial yoke. Scotland belongs to the Scots; if they vote for independence then the best of luck to them and if they vote to stick with the UK, hey, that’s just great too.

If I were a Scotsman I’d be sorely tempted by the idea of independence. As a man who has been self-employed for most of his life the notion of going it alone and doing better for yourself is deeply ingrained in me. Yet, and in spite of that, I would most certainly vote to stick with the Union.

At least under the current system the Scots and the rest of the Brits are sharing the cost of a smaller pool of these bozos
Because countries aren’t run by people like me. Countries are run by politicians; the sort of people who inspire the thoughts of spin, gamesmanship and backroom deals that make me instantly suspicious when I notice an increase in the number of Scots banknotes I’m getting in my change. Like most of my compatriots I wouldn’t trust them as far as I could throw them.

And therein perhaps lies the most pragmatic and overarching argument for sticking with the Union. Independence means two smaller administrations and the law of economies of scale states that the sum of those parts will be greater than the current whole. We’ll all end up paying more money for more politicians and more civil servants.

At least under the current system the Scots and the rest of the Brits are sharing the cost of a smaller pool of these bozos.

 

 

Euro no hope springs eternal

The EU rules that spring onions must now be called salad onions?
Code or canard it exemplifies the dire state of the union

Spring onions or salad onions?I don’t pay much attention when I’m out shopping. I just see the stuff I want and throw it in my basket once I’ve pushed my way through the loitering mass of picky package-squeezers who seem to feel the need to man-handle (or more accurately in this case woman-handle) everything on the shelf before selecting which to take.

Therefore I was particularly ill prepared, on a recent trip to my local convenience store, for the exchange of small talk that greeted me at the checkout:-

 Cashier: Spring, er, Salad onions … (sarcastic smile) … we can’t call them spring onions any more.

PPW: (eyes narrowing) Why’s that?

Cashier: European regulations … we can’t call them spring onions because they’re grown all year round so we have to call them salad onions from now on.

PPW: (eyes rolling) Urrgh … makes me want to vote UKIP.

The case for the defence

While, like many of my countrymen, I despair of the bloated bureaucracy and petty policymaking of the European Union and recognise its urgent need for reform and realignment I will not, of course, be voting UKIP. That was just an idle one-liner at the corner store.

As a man with a passing interest in economics I recognise that whether Britain is in the EU or out of it Europe will remain our biggest trading partner and therefore we’ll be subject to the vast majority of its legislation anyway. At least from the inside we have some say in those rules and the most possible forewarning that they’re coming, unlike countries like Norway and Switzerland who can only wait in fear for them to come off the fax machine.

As a man who has read How to win friends and influence people, Dale Carnegie’s unfortunately cheesily named 1937 classic on the psychology of people handling, I also acknowledge that by far the best way to change others is to work with them, to show them respect and make your objectives coincide with theirs, rather than hurl abuse and threats from the periphery and threaten to take your ball home.

And as a born sceptic I recognise that any story, whether from the media or from the man in the street, that plays to prevailing populism cannot be taken at face value.

And this one smells a little bit like horseshit to me.

The case for the prosecution

But it seems to me that in this example the truth doesn’t actually matter because the problem with this example isn’t its factual accuracy but its believability.

I don’t think I’ve ever looked at the label on my M&S spring onions in my life before this weekend so I’m hardly a credible witness
I could hardly be bothered to pop into the Google-cave to see if there was any substance to it at all but a quick search revealed little more than a couple of discussion boards where the same rumour had been discussed. If this change is a result of European legislation then it’s almost certainly an interpretation of some obscure clause rather than the result of a clear and specific decision. If indeed there has been any change at all – I don’t think I’ve ever looked at the label on my M&S spring onions in my life before this weekend so I’m hardly a credible witness.

Yet, if it were the result of a clear and specific decision from the European policy machine few of us would be surprised. It’s exactly the sort of micro-meddling that the populist press love to jump on and therefore, fairly or otherwise, we’ve all come to expect. It’s therefore equally believable that someone would presume a supermarket changing the name of its salad products for no apparently good reason was doing so because of an EU regulation; the story starts to spread and another widely accepted canard is born.

A shopping basket-case

May’s European elections lived up to two widely trailed expectations.

First was the predictably low voter turnout. The UK managed little over 1 in 3 people bothering to cast their euro-ballot, though that’s actually pretty respectable compared to previous euro-votes.

Second was the expected rise in the share of votes for anti-Europe parties. Taking a couple of examples from the subsequent coverage in The Economist Britain’s UK Independence party managed over 27% while France’s National Front got around 25%. Overall the broadly Eurosceptic parties will occupy over a quarter of the seats in the next European parliament.

Both reflect an unhealthy degree of disinterest and disdain for the European Union and this is as much a result of its political performance (or lack thereof) as it is of popular perceptions (or indeed misconceptions).

The EU needs to work better at the things that really matter and perhaps more importantly needs to show it’s working better at the things that really matter. The UK may face a referendum on its EU membership over the next few years and I doubt the turnout will be anywhere near as weak if it does.

And, unless things change, I also doubt we’ll be the last country to get one.

If you like a lot of chocolate on your biscuit

I won’t be joining this club,
But I’ll forever think of it when I see a certain snack

Jacob's Club Biscuit

Ah, Jacob’s Club biscuits, those silver wrapped chunky chocolate staples of my childhood school lunchbox. I haven’t thought of them in years.

Few Brits of similar vintage to myself will need a reminder but, for the uninitiated, Club biscuits were one of W&R Jacob’s more successful offerings in the cramped and crowded British snack market, a small but thick wafer generously coated in chocolate and offered in a variety of flavours such as orange and mint. Few Brits of similar vintage to myself will need a reminder because one of the reasons for its success was its annoyingly memorable advertising jingle “If you like a lot of chocolate on your biscuit, join our club.” A tune which ranked 7th in a 2012 survey of the catchiest advertising jingles of all time.

It was in fact that jingle that brought the memories flooding back.

Indulging my predilection for using the gym during less sociable hours (when it’s comparatively knob-head free and the kit I want isn’t being hogged) I noticed two very friendly gentlemen emerging from the showers while I was getting changed. A man with a build to put a Calvin Klein underwear model to shame was in rather close company with a foppish, longhaired rake of a lad who took camp to similarly impressive levels.

And then I heard it. Apropos of apparently nothing and delivered slathered in suggestiveness.

“If you like a lot of chocolate on your biscuit, join our club.”

I was nonplussed. Then I heard it again with subtitles; in particular a lewd groinal nod during the word “biscuit” and inviting wiggle of the ass at the end.

“If you like a lot of chocolate on your biscuit, join our clu-uub”

Three thoughts occurred in fairly rapid succession.

In my 40 years on this planet I’d never twigged to the gay sex double entendre in this little child-pleasing advertising ditty
First off, in my 40 years on this planet I’d never twigged to the gay sex double entendre in this little child-pleasing advertising ditty. Delivered as it was that night it’s actually rather hard to imagine the song ever had a clean meaning.

Secondly, I will now forever be reminded of gay sex whenever I see a Jacob’s Club biscuit or hear that dratted song.

Thirdly, why will I now forever be reminded of gay sex whenever I see a Jacob’s Club biscuit or hear that dratted song?

 

Guilt by association

In my younger years I remember visiting a terminally sick relative who had reached the doubly incontinent stage of their demise. Mindful of both the sufferer’s shame and the comfort of their visitors their family were using a rather heavy air-freshener – Vanilla Flowers – to disguise the odour. It wasn’t entirely successful and even now, whenever I smell that particular scent I instantly think I can smell sweet, sickly shit at the same time.

Several times in my career I’ve worked with people who pronounce common words in an odd fashion. In my first job one of my colleagues insisted on pronouncing “duplicate” with a hard “du” rather than a softer “dew” (“d-up-licate”). In my second role my manager was rather fond of pronouncing MIME (an Internet standard I won’t bore you about) “mi-mi” rather than the more familiar way to rhyme with “mine”. Whether these were regional things or merely personal quirks they have stuck with me like leeches. I still have to stop myself pronouncing “duplicate” with a hard “du”, or saying “mi-mi” when I want to say mime.

From now on whenever I spy Jacob’s Club biscuits in the supermarket aisle I will instantly be reminded of a different club entirely. And I suspect pass straight along to the Kit-Kats

The human brain, especially its long-term memory, works by association. Quite often when we’re reminded of something from the past it sets in train a succession of associated memories, a succession that repeats itself every time we’re reminded of the same thing. Thinking of a trip I’ve taken for example might remind me of a song I heard or a book I was reading or a toothsome local tipple I first quaffed at the time. And in reverse the song, the story or the shot will remind me of that place.

Oddball events we encounter in life don’t necessarily fit the established patterns in our long-term memory. Perhaps for this reason they become amplified, stronger in our minds because their very exceptionality demands that reinforcement lest they slip away.

And so I know that from now on whenever I spy Jacob’s Club biscuits in the supermarket aisle I will instantly be reminded of a different club entirely.

And I suspect pass straight along to the Kit-Kats.