Cheque out the cheek of banking cheats

Maurice O'Brien • Published 31 Dec 2009 10:00 0 Comments

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DESPITE the massive dig-out we've given them over the past year or so, it's not every day your bank owes you money.

However, having decided against buying shares in Lloyds TSB's rights issue there was still some cash to come in lieu.

Imagine my surprise when the money arrived last week in the form of a cheque, because, as we've all learned lately, our bankers don't believe in cheques anymore and want rid of them.

These are the same bankers whose gamblers' greed left the global economy a shambles, who demonstrate their remorse by awarding themselves even bigger bonuses and show gratitude for the nation's bail-out by denying lifesaving loans to struggling businesses.

It's not like cheques are obsolete, not with 1.6m of them written every day. No, this is simply selfishness and another example of the banks telling customers and taxpayers to get stuffed. It's clearly more expensive to process cheques than tapping on a computer keyboard, although it's always been a mystery why clearing one involves a labour intensive three or four days.

There are millions of us, computerphobes or not, who trust internet banking about as much as one of those emails from a Nigerian millionaire's widow. And, as Lloyds Banking Group plc has just proved, there remain many occasions when a cheque's essential.

▪ WHY the excitement at revelations that saintly Old Prudence won't face the Chilcot Inquiry until after the general election?

Albeit it's costing us £6m a year for Yo B's bodyguards, the PM clearly thinks it's well worth the money to ensure his old buddy spends more time out of the country than in it.

But just pay attention the next time they show a TV clip of Blair in the Commons telling porkies about the threat of WMDs or Saddam Hussain. In virtually every one, just under his left elbow is the member for Kirkcaldy & Cowdenbeath. And what's he doing?

The rumpled Brown bonce is nodding in agreement; going up and down faster than a fiddler's elbow or a toy dog in the back window of an old banger with dodgy springs. Presumably he still remembers what he agreed with. Or is he hoping to forget?

▪ THE post of Director of Football is a relatively new invention, involving decisions on which players to buy and sell, and even the choice of managers and coaches.

Reading's managers, players and backroom staff have thus far carried, or been handed, the can for this annus horribilis. One wonders when the buck will reach the right place?

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