QUENTIN LETTS: With his drip dry suburban ways, there's something furtive about the Governor

Daily Mail​

6 days ago

Bank managers are often thought stodgy presences. But as Andrew Bailey demonstrated at the treasury select committee, they are crazily optimistic loan sharks. Their purpose in life is to persuade happy people to borrow money, which frequently brings misery.
'It'll be fine,' they say. Bank managers are maniacs.
Outwardly Mr Bailey is unexciting. They're always the most dangerous. The sober socks, bland suit, Pooterish manner, and a retinue of six clerical mice who traipse after him with earnest haircuts and dark shoes: it is a brilliant disguise. We think, 'he'll be safe', but we'd be safer being driven home from an all-night bender by the late Ayrton Senna.
Mr Bailey is governor of the Bank of England. His time in charge has so far seen the mad printing of money, blindness to inflation after lockdown and a regulatory laxness that hastened the Truss government's destruction. Yesterday he was asked if Rachel Reeves was borrowing too much. Noooo, said Mr Bailey. Everything's under control.
He slipped easily into jargon mode, burbling that yield curves were steeper across the world.
As he did this he narrowed his eyes a little to convey shrewd expertise. He placed his elbows on the witness table and touched the skin of his brow, quite the expert intellectual. Carry on borrowing, Chancellor. It's all going swimmingly. That was his siren song.
Dame Meg Hillier (Lab), chairman of the committee, was surprised. 'You sound unconcerned,' honked Mother-Goose Meg.
Mr Bailey, suppressing just a hint of indigestion: 'I'm not unconcerned. It's reflective of conditions. There is an uncertainty in geopolitics, I'd say.'
Dame Meg boggled a bit at his calm tone. We were talking here about trillions of pounds and an interest bill that could bankrupt us. Mr Bailey soothed Dame Meg with a not-quite convincing smile. He noted that the market capitalisation of a single US firm is now greater than Britain's gross domestic product. Was that meant to be reassuring?
Unlike his talcum-powdered predecessor Mark Carney this Bank governor is not a magnetic figure. When he enters a room, people do not hush. When Mr Carney shimmered down a corridor, you could almost hear Sade's 'Smooth Operator'.
Mr Bailey, with his crinkly hairdo and drip-dry, suburban ways, lacks charisma. He fiddles with his chin and neck when talking. His fingers twiddle with a slender ballpoint pen. There's something not quite right about him. Something flawed. Furtive.
When Ms Reeves first started to meet him, she possibly suspected that she was the senior partner in the relationship. Now, as she looks at our economy going down the plughole, she must wish she had never listened to his burbling reassurances.
He was accompanied by two external members of the Bank's financial policy committee. Carolyn Wilkins, a Canadian policy wonk, was largely inaudible. Prof Randall Kroszner, known as 'Randy', sat on the very edge of his chair, his spine ramrod straight.
Randy was Norman R. Bobins professor of economics at Chicago university, a director of the George J. Stigler Center for the Study of the Economy and the John M. Olin visiting fellow of law at Chicago law school. Randy turns left on aeroplanes.
We possibly need to keep Rachel Reeves away from such people.
It being the last day of term, Westminster was pretty empty. The education committee was holding an inquiry about truancy. Jolly bad luck. It meant most of them had to turn up.
And in the Commons chamber Wes Streeting took health questions. Wes is already quite bronzé. Not a fleck of grey taints his inky, modishly ridged fringe. Add a rich, blue suit and just a hint of tummy.
During longueurs he effortlessly attended to his mobile telephone. He paid handsome tribute to his Tory shadow, Edward Argar, who is retiring from the front bench. And he relished talking about the resident doctors' strike, which we must all hope he wins.
The Starmer Government has had a hellish first year but little Wes is loving life.