Evening Standard: Operation 'Name This War'

FORGET the military preparations: the Pentagon's real challenge is choosing the right codename for this war, writes David Rowan.

For a day last week, planners were calling it 'Operation Infinite Justice' - in the great tradition, they thought, of Desert Storm and Just Cause. But after Muslims objected that only Allah can dispense infinite justice, and liberals warned of an 'infinite' conflict, the defence machine went into retreat.

We have a conflict that needs a name.

This is not a new problem. After President Bush Senior ordered the 1989 invasion of Panama, the Pentagon was finalising plans for ' Operation Blue Spoon' when a last-minute phone call arrived from a senior commander. 'Do you want your grandchildren to say you were in Blue Spoon?' he asked. The White House thought again: Americans weren't ready to fight for a blue spoon - although they might back 'Operation Just Cause'.

Since then, the US military has realised the PR value of choosing the right codename. When US Marines helped in the Bangladeshi typhoon in 1991, Gen Colin Powell worried that the public would never warm to 'Operation Productive Effort'. 'After a day of struggling with Productive Effort, I said to my staff, 'We've just got to get a better name,' ' he recalled.

When local papers described the US saviours as angels arriving from the sea, it became Operation Sea Angel. This time, 'something traditional and martial would be fine,' Scott Rosenberg of Salon magazine wrote last week. 'Operation Blue Eagle, or: Mountain Hawk, whatever - anything that doesn't make us feel like the war we're embarking on has an impossible goal and an unreachable end.'

(Evening Standard, September 28 2001)

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Evening Standard: Too Few Spaces, Too Many Permits - How Drivers Are Being Taken For A Ride

It's being called 'residents' parking rage', and to drivers living in London's busiest streets the frustration of finding a space can be enough to prompt a move to the country. David Rowan reports


AFTER paying up to £100 for the privilege of parking near their homes, increasing numbers of motorists are having to drive around in circles squeezed out by councils selling up to two permits for every available on-street parking place.
In Covent Garden, weary residents have even decreed it an official neighbourhood sport - the motorists' equivalent of musical chairs, with just one near-impossible aim: to find an empty, legal parking space.

As resident Amanda Rigby explained, 'the game has been enjoying increasingly heated popularity among young and old' - with around 400 permit-holders fighting a daily street battle to secure one of only about 220 parking bays.

Such double-ticketing among airlines would lead to refunds or compensation claims. But the practice is rife across London's parking authorities, according to an Evening Standard survey - and is set to grow as a projected increase in car ownership is matched by the rapid spread of controlled-parking zones.

The problem is not just affecting central London, squeezed as it is by the boom in residential development - meaning more homeowners applying for more permits. As our survey can reveal, the growing demand for residents' parking is forcing a number of London boroughs to oversell permits for the available number of parking bays - with demand fuelled even further by non-residents fraudulently obtaining passes.

This year, Kensington and Chelsea has sold 41,500 borough-wide permits for only 26,000 residents' spaces. The story is similar in Westminster, where residents have paid for a third more permits - 39,000 - than there are available parking bays. Even in leafy Merton, 13,000 permits have been issued to cover 6,000 legal parking places.

But it's in Camden - with 37,000 permits issued each year, to fill 22,500 bays - that residents have complained loudest about the mismatch between the availability of the £82 permits and the number of actual parking places.

That tension recently came to a head in the north of the borough, when those living in the Redington Road and Frognal areas lost a heated battle to join the main Hampstead parking zone. The council backed those living in the centre of the notoriously traffic-clogged village, rejecting the call to add to the 3,760 permit-holders already competing for just 2,400 official parking places.

Such numbers worry Dawn Somper, a local councillor who believes that Camden is already 'skating on thin ice' over its allocation of permits. 'It's not legal, I'm sure,' she told the Standard. 'It must be wrong to sell more permits than there are spaces to park, but it's happening all over London. I wonder why residents aren't attacking people in the town hall?'

She believes the council must simply stop selling permits. 'But they're not likely to do that, as they make a jolly good profit.'

By law, the money councils make from permit sales or fines is ring-fenced to be used for transport-related spending, such as concessionary fares or the enforcement of more parking zones. But that does not stop residents questioning their councils' ability to raise extra funds - whether £3.30 a year in Havering, or £95 in Islington - and guarantee nothing in return.

Along Hampstead's elegant Georgian terraces, the frustration is palpable as the four-by-fours race with the Porsches for the few mid-afternoon places.

Lesley Scorgie, aged 40, who lives in Church Row, said: 'If you pay to have a parking space close to where you live, you should have the right to park there. The situation is ridiculous - we'd be willing to pay more to get our own space, if Camden could police the system.'

Her husband, Russell Amerasekera, a 39-year-old television presenter, believes the problem is worsening. 'We'll sometimes drive round five times before we find a place,' he said. One solution, he believes, is for the council to deny permits to residents who already have private parking places.

Their neighbour Anne Cramphorn, a 45-year-old nursery-school assistant, has been ticketed after midnight for parking on a yellow line when no residents' bays were available. The key, she said, was to time her arrival carefully: 'If you return home after 8pm, when non-residents are allowed to park, and before 11pm, you just can't find a place.'

The pressures are greater, if anything, five miles south, in the West End.

Lez Hammans, a Covent Garden resident of 25 years, lives just off Endell Street, but cannot park anywhere near his home. 'It gets harder by the minute, but you learn to live with it,' he said. 'You don't use your car unless you know you can get back in. That means coming back at 1am or 2am, or parking on a meter and getting up at 5am to find a space. The airlines are being called to account over double-booking. Yet the council's doing the same over parking.'

Mr Hammans, a property manager in his fifties, dares not move his Fiat unless he is driving out of town for the weekend. He has twice faced legal action despite being correctly parked on a residents' bay with a correct permit: 'It cost me sleepless nights, and quite a bit of money proving I was right, and then Camden didn't even turn up at the tribunal.'

BUT what has really stuck in his craw, he said, is the Standard's revelation that congestion charging is to be accompanied by lane closures on main routes leading in from the west.

'It's Ken Livingstone's own form of deep-vein thrombosis,' he said. 'I was shocked. I hate it here now, and will be moving out of London when I can, what with this and the parking problems. If there were riots over the poll tax, I'll be amazed if people don't take up arms against this.'

The problem is set to get worse. There are now 3.1million households in London, but the Mayor's housing commission estimates that this could rise to 3.6 million within 15 years - not least because another 290,000 of us will be living alone. And that means more cars on the roads, even if off-street parking is a condition of many new planning approvals.

The Government's own 10-year transport plan, published last February, projects a startling rise in car ownership: whereas in 1996 there were 2.5 million cars in the capital, by 2011 it says there will be 3.3 million. Those cars will have to be parked somewhere.

Councils accept they will be unable to meet the new demand, yet they say they can merely respond to residents' wishes. 'We are obliged, if a resident can produce the necessary documents and proof of residency, to issue the requested permit,' a spokeswoman for Kensington and Chelsea said. 'We can't guarantee a space, no. But what's the alternative? To have a cut-off point and turn down the next applicant?'

The council points out that not every permit owner wants to park at the same time. Some permits are owned by those with a home elsewhere, or by those who have off-road parking.

There is also a growing problem of non-residents fraudulently obtaining permits. Kensington-and Chelsea accepts that forged permits are being used, and boroughs from Croydon to Richmond have received falsified documents such as tenancy agreements in applications for passes. The problem appears to be acute in parts of central London.

John Bos, co-ordinator of the Covent Garden Community Association, said: 'Our biggest problem is the large number of people who have obtained permits fraudulently, and Camden's inability to do anything about it. We estimate that 15 to 20 per cent of all permits are fraudulent.

'Go and follow some of the restaurant-owners arriving in residents' bays each morning.

If you're a resident, you don't get a look in.

Some claim they have a camp bed in the basement. Or you can draw up your own tenancy agreement and put yourself on the electoral register, but that doesn't mean you live there.

The lengths people go to are incredible.'

Most councils are now looking to extend their current controlled-parking zones or to create new ones. The Mayor's planned £5-a-day congestion charge is accelerating the trend in outer London, where residents fear the growth in commuter parking around Tube stations. Barnet, for instance, now has 11 zones, but councillors were this week discussing a number of new additions.

But in inner London, too, councils admit drastic solutions may be needed to stem the demand. As Westminster council says: 'Since our population is expected to grow in the near future and all the indications are that car ownership levels will also continue to increase, it will be increasingly difficult for us to meet the demand from residents to be able to park a vehicle near their homes.'

And that is bound to enrage those who end up driving around in circles.

[TABLE]
Councils who cause you parking rage: and charge you for it

Camden
Issues 37,000 parking permits for approximately 22,500 parking spaces Cost of a residents' permit for a year: £82

Croydon
Issues 8,000 permits for approximately 7,900 parking spaces Cost: £28

Hackney
Issues approximately 10,000 permits for approximately 7,100 parking places Cost: £75

Hounslow
Issues 6,300 parking permits for 5,000 spaces Cost: up to £75

Islington
Issues about 7,300 parking permits for around 6,700 parking spaces Cost: £95

Kensington and Chelsea
Issues approximately 41,500 residents' parking permits for around 26,000 spaces Cost: £70

Merton
Issues approximately 13,000 parking permits for 6,000 spaces Cost: Up to £100

Richmond
Issues approximately 8,000 permits for approximately 6,447 residents' permit holder spaces (a further Richmond 4,142 shared-use spaces can be used by residents' permit holders) Cost up to £80

Sutton
Issues approximately 2,000 residents' permits for 1,830 spaces Cost: £25

Westminster
Issues about 39,000 parking permits for around 30,000 spaces Cost: up to £90

(Evening Standard, September 28 2001)

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Evening Standard: Gavyn Davies profile

By David Rowan

HE HAS what colleagues call the world's biggest brain, a personal fortune in excess of £100 million, and influence across Downing Street enjoyed by no other City figure. His parties attract the New Establishment's A-list, his holiday home stars in architectural magazines and when he isn't helping run Goldman Sachs, he's popping up on TV or in newspapers to explain the global economy. And now the Government has given him the BBC to run. Not bad for a working-class boy from Zimbabwe.

Gavyn Davies, announced today as the new BBC chairman, is a perfect target for the jealousy, backbiting and malice normally directed at those who succeed more than is humanly decent. Why, then, is it so difficult to find people who have a hostile word for him?

Talk to those who have worked with him in the City, in Downing Street, in the BBC and in newspapers and you hear - even after guaranteeing anonymity - the same words: honest, serious, committed, obsessive, passionate, astute, cerebral, private, ambitious, unaffected. Davies might occasionally be tetchy; for some he is too deadpan and uncharismatic, or even mistaken in his economic judgments.

But the worst you hear - mostly from Labour's political opponents - is that he's a crony, a man who has advanced himself by using his Labour Party connections. Or that he's a hypocrite, espousing egalitarian New Labour principles, but happy to become phenomenally rich from his Goldman Sachs shares.

One of the few people to have earned the trust both of Tony Blair and Gordon Brown, whose private office his wife runs, Davies is certainly a pivotal figure in government. It was at his Clerkenwell house that Peter Mandelson and Brown held their famous 'ceasefire meeting' in January 1999, after Blair decided that their bitter feud must end.

When Brown sought a pre-Budget photo-opportunity alongside his fiance Sarah Macaulay, they chose the third birthday party of Davies's son Ben. When Brown and Macaulay got married, his children served as bridesmaid and page boy.

Blair values him as a friend and an economic 'guru' who not only guides policy but can enthuse City donors to pack Labour fundraising dinners. Davies accompanied the Prime Minister on his official visit to Washington; Blair has been a houseguest in the Davies holiday home.

For one so close to power, however, Davies hates being in the public eye - a limitation which some say he will have to overcome now he has got the BBC job. He is not naturally extrovert: his idea of the perfect evening would be taking his children down to the nearest golf driving range, or staying in with the family to watch his beloved Southampton FC on television.

Yet he is firmly on the scene: at Sir David Frost's summer party, Philip Gould's birthday party, or the BBC's election night party, Davies will be one of the last to leave. 'The idea that Gavyn doesn't like fun isn't right,' says one old friend. 'He's on the New Labour party circuit - you'll see him at the back, earnestly talking economics with someone, not noticing that his shirt's been hanging out for hours.'

His closest friends include journalist David Lipsey, now a Labour peer, and David Blake, a Goldman Sachs man who also came from journalism. (Davies was one of five founders of the short-lived Sunday Correspondent newspaper, and initially invested £40,000 of his own money.) Other journalist friends include Will Hutton, now heading the Industrial Society, and The Independent's editor, Simon Kelner.

Sir Nick Lloyd and Lady Eve Pollard stayed at his Clerkenwell house while theirs was renovated; as, previously, had Mandelson. Golf partners include Lord Terry Burns, ex-permanent secretary at the Treasury, and Gus O'Donnell, head of the Government economic service. But as a quintessential family man - driving a people-carrier rather than a Porsche - Davies is not one to have drinking buddies.

'His family is his crowd,' says a former minister who used to dine with him. 'Beyond that he's a bit of a loner.' His private life revolves around Rosie, 11, Ben, now six, and three-year-old Matthew, and he tries to be home in Wandsworth before their bedtime. He has held a Southampton FC season ticket since 1962, and will take Rosie and Ben to most matches. Lately Rosie, who has played for Arsenal juniors, has also persuaded him to acquire a Highbury season ticket.

The family makes frequent use of Baggy House, their extravagant clifftop home in Croyde, Devon, but otherwise Davies professes to be unaffected by his wealth. He laughs off questions about his favourite fashion designer, stressing that he remains a crumpled Marks & Spencer suit man.

He might eat at The Square in Bruton Street, although he is no gastronome, and if drinking will settle for a £20 white Burgundy. Going to the opera is a twice-yearly corporate task; he would rather listen to Robbie Williams, although the last album he bought was by Craig David. As for cinema, Billy Elliot is his favourite recent film.

BEFITTING a BBC man, TV is an important pastime. Davies considers The Office to have been phenomenal, enjoys Absolutely Fabulous, but considers ITV's Saturday night Premiership coverage to be diabolical. Sport, you can tell, will be a BBC priority: from cricket to golf, it is an obsession. One regular guest to his country home enjoys settling down to watch the dog-racing channel Gobarkingmad. com. ' Only Gavyn's TV would get that channel,' he says.

Davies was born in what was Rhodesia on 27 November 1950. His working-class parents had met at Aberystwyth University before moving to Africa: his father, Frank, founded the country's only black high school; his mother Myfanwy, also a teacher, had been the first girl from her Welsh village to attend university.

Gavyn, an only child, was sent to a girls' convent school where, just one of a handful of boys, he gained a sense of being 'special'. In 1961, sensing UDI's imminence, his parents decided to return, and settled where the boat arrived - in Southampton. They had no money and few possessions. Both parents continued teaching, his father at the university's English department, spending Saturdays at the Dell with Gavyn.

His father died in 1992; until she passed away this summer, Davies would ring his mother every day.

He attended Taunton's Grammar School, where, aged 12, he discovered a fascination for numbers that would have him analysing sports statistics. By 14, he had chosen to be an economist. Four years later he arrived at St John's College, Cambridge, where he devoted his time to study and to college sports. Davies recalls his time as 'no politics, no drugs, no fun' - just a serious focus on succeeding.

He planned to be an academic and went on to Balliol College, Oxford. But he abandoned an economics MPhil in 1974 when his tutor, Andrew Graham, found him a job in Downing Street. Davies had been a Labour Party member since his teens and was suddenly advising Harold Wilson and James Callaghan on economic policy. The Ed Balls of that era, he was one of the few people Callaghan absolutely trusted. He left in 1979 with an OBE and a relationship with fellow worker Sue Nye, who was to become his wife.

Davies was pondering a return to academia when the 'lucky break' came: the City firm Phillips & Drew offered him work as an economist. At that time, there were virtually no talented economists in the City, so he formed a pioneering team of forecasters with a colleague, David Morrison.

The team developed a radical way of systematically analysing the month's data, and taking a view on what the figures would be, from industrial production to unemployment. Investors found it invaluable. Hutton, who has known Davies for 24 years, had also been at Phillips & Drew. 'Gavyn's judgment about what the UK economy was doing was pretty much the best in the world from the early 80s,' he says. 'His research gives you a depth and an angle which is frankly unique.'

But two years later he made a disastrous move to another firm, Simon and Coates, which was soon taken over by Chase Manhattan. His platform disappeared: for Davies, it was like moving from Manchester United to a small nonleague team. He and Morrison stayed for five years until Morrison suggested approaching a newcomer to London, Goldman Sachs, about launching a global economics unit.

It took a year to persuade the bank - but once there, the unit became the most respected economics team in world finance. Davies eventually became chief international economist and a managing director, and was invited by John Major's government to sit on the Treasury's 'wise men' panel of economic forecasters.

A SENIOR Goldman Sachs colleague says Davies remains widely respected in the firm: 'He's exceedingly honest. You just trust him. Clients love Gavyn, as they know he won't use 'Research' as a mechanism for selling something. Right or wrong, his assessment is the truth as he sees it.'

He also correctly judged that TV appearances as an economics pundit could help 'brand' him with clients. So began his long relationship with the BBC - which led to him chairing the 1999 independent review into its future funding, and last year becoming its deputy chairman.

When Davies submitted to his BBC interview 'board' last Tuesday afternoon, he knew he faced some hurdles. Not least were the accusations of 'cronyism', what with his wife's influence within Government circles and his own party ties. He firmly rejects suggestions that he benefits from 'pillow talk': Davies and Nye insist that there is a clear 'Chinese wall' between their private and professional lives. Still, his political colours are clear.

He also lacks the showmanship that some say the role demands. 'The BBC might find him a little bit too cerebral,' says one senior Labour politician. 'He's more at home with Radio 4 than Radio 1. But he knows more about the corporation than anyone else and as chairman would bring a new robustness to the board of governors' deliberations.'

Some colleagues question whether he will shine as the BBC's public ambassador, or even survive amid the behind-the-scenes backbiting. Lipsey, his closest friend, admits that Davies is 'a capable though not spellbinding public orator - though they've got Greg Dyke to do the flashy bits'. Lipsey sees him as a ' micropolitician' who will master the corporation's notorious internal politics.

One senior Government figure says that, although Davies might not be 'a warm, charismatic mover of souls', he is the sort of 'highly competent, detailed and imaginative arguer of cases' that the BBC needs if it is to survive new governmentregulation. His passion for the public sector and the BBC's special remit have earned Davies strong respect within the corporation.

As for his own beliefs, he stresses that he is not a socialist but an 'egalitarian' - believing that we should all have equal access to health, or education, whatever our circumstances. He sends his daughter to a bog-standard comprehensive - even if that meant moving to Wandsworth, as Islington was not up to par.

There are those who see something hypocritical in a man who goes to such lengths, even though he could easily afford to send a few hundred children to Eton. He insists that personal wealth was never a particular goal: the huge sum he made from his Goldman Sachs shares was rather like a Lottery win.

Davies openly admits that he has more than he needs and has not yet decided how to spend it. He has set up a trust fund and is about to launch 'a significant charitable institution that will bring a different type of skill set into the charitable marketplace'. And no, he has no idea how much is now in his bank account.

He will, though, make a couple of predictions. Southampton will finish this season in the top three of the Premiership. And Arsenal will be in the top two.

(Evening Standard, September 19 2001)

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Evening Standard: How London's Arab Papers Reported 9/11

The capital's many Islamic journalists were quick to offer condolences over the twin towers atrocity - but now they're asking questions, reports David Rowan

LONDON has long been the world's capital for Arabic media, though its heyday may be ending. Today, in Acton or Ealing, between 800 and 1,000 journalists interpret the world for papers such as Al Hayat and satellite broadcasters including MBC (Middle East Broadcasting Company).

This week, of course, there's been just one story. In all the London-based papers - six daily broadsheets, and four magazines the tone has been remarkably consistent. However unpopular US foreign policy in the Middle East, you will search in vain for attempts to justify the terrorists' acts. The leader in last Wednesday's Al-Arab, signed by the editor-in-chief, Haj Ahmed El-Houni, is typical of the sympathetic line.

'What took place was a heinous crime, an appalling piracy and terrorism,' he wrote. 'We pray to God to expose those brutes who did not consider the consequences.'

The papers are full of expressions of regret that so many have died, and columnists cautiously accept Washington's right to a 'civilised' response. They do, however, suggest that America should itself reflect. 'Such acts do not serve any cause, no matter how just,' wrote Al-Quds Al-Arabi, which frequently reflects Palestinian and Iraqi viewpoints. 'But we call upon American citizens to ask, why among all the embassies, buildings and defence establishments of the Western powers, it is theirs that are targeted.'

In the Hammersmith offices of Al Hayat, a leading Saudiowned newspaper, the mood has similarly been one of measured reflection. 'We've reported the great deal of condemnation coming from the Arab world, and are now asking questions,' explained Abrahim Khayat, a senior reporter. 'We're reminding the US that we share their sorrow. But we're also reminding the US government - not Americans themselves - that it has never shared our sorrow about the Arabs' treatment in the Middle East.' Al Hayat is also warning of the backlash that could follow a brutal American response.

The paper has experience of terrorism: in January 1997, two letter bombs exploded in the London office. This week, staff received abusive emails. 'We're not making a fuss,' said Mr Khayat. 'People are a bit angry, but it will go away. We're in a free country.'

This freedom of expression is one of the reasons London has become such a focus for pan-Arab journalism. 'You don't get the hassle of operating somewhere like Egypt, with the police knocking on your door because you said something uncomfortable,' said a senior journalist at MBC, which has 50 journalists in London. But others question just how free the papers' journalists really are.

Hisham Aldiwan, editor-in-chief of the political weekly Al-Mushahid Assiyasi, points out that each paper is backed by one or more Arab governments, whether Saudi Arabia, Qatar or Libya: 'No one can be employed unless they're acceptable to those governments,' he said. 'They want 'Agents' rather than journalists - you say what they want you to say.' Mr Aldiwan suggests that each of the papers is simply a front for its own backer's propaganda, and this is why none dares criticise America currently.

Certainly, the economics suggest that the papers' survival relies on outside backing. Most sell just a few thousand abroad, perhaps hundreds in Britain, and advertising is minimal. Some papers are estimated to need £20 million in annual subsidies.

The journalists themselves deny that they follow any official line. 'News is news - it's not for us to interpret it,' said a senior journalist at MBC. 'If you want to deliver propaganda, go to Hyde Park Corner.'

This week, the station's foreign-news agenda has not differed greatly from the BBC's. Still, after 10 years in London, the station is about to move to Dubai. 'There's no reason to stay - London was once a safe haven, but the Arab world has changed profoundly since 1991,' the journalist said.

Hisham Aldiwan believes that the papers will also scale back their London operations. After the Gulf War, the papers were useful in restoring a political order. 'Since then, they've got their message over.'

(Evening Standard, September 19 2001)

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Evening Standard: The marketing of Harry Potter

It's a marketing and merchandising phenomenon, worth an estimated billion dollars. David Rowan reports on the selling - and exploitation - of Harry Potter

ONLY a muggle could have missed the 150-second internet trailer, the 22-page Vanity Fair photo shoot and the commemorative Isle of Man £5 coins. But if Pottermania has thus far eluded you, prepare to face the interactive candy, the handheld video games, the commemorative Coke cans and the Pokmon-style trading cards.

Oh, and a film, too.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Warner Bros' much-hyped take on the JK Rowling novel, has already become a marketing and merchandising phenomenon - and it's not even released for another 65 days. Already hundreds of millions of dollars have been agreed in aggressive licensing deals - ensuring the Christmas market will be flooded with Harry Potter role-playing games, personal radios, voicechanging devices, construction kits, video consoles, metallic bookends, trivia games and orange drinks.

'The launch of Harry Potter products will be a worldwide effort,' according to Dan Romanelli, president of Warner Bros' consumerproducts division. 'We're looking to support the literary and film property as a long-term franchise.'

And that, say licensing experts, means the characters invented by a single mother in a Glasgow cafe are now 'properties' as valuable as any in recent film history. Although Warner Bros protects its investments with obsessive secrecy - 'We won't be able to give out that information,' it responded to even our blandest questions - others who know the territory suggest the merchandising tie-ins compare to blockbusters such as Star Wars. Ian Downes, whose company, Saban, licensed Power Rangers and Digimon, estimates that the merchandising fees and the associated cross-marketing agreements will bring in enough to break Gringotts bank: 'They have to be looking at a billion-dollar franchise on a global level.'

Those eager to buy into the Potter film include Coca-Cola, which acquired global marketing rights for a reported Dollars 150 million (with a pledge to fund community-reading schemes, at Ms Rowling's request, lest her creation become simply a commercial entity). Also wielding the chequebook was Mattel, which bought the worldwide 'master toy' licence; Hasbro, which acquired rights to products ranging from trading-card games to 'the magical Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans'; Lego, proud to market Hogwarts School construction kits until 2004; and Electronic Arts, which 'will work closely with JK Rowling' to turn Harry into a range of electronic games. Even the Queen is a willing participant - accompanying Harry on an officially endorsed set of coins issued last week in the Isle of Man. According to the Pobjoy Mint, 25,000 of the coins sold within five hours.

Such frantic merchandising is now typical among the major film studios, which can claw back large chunks of their production costs by concluding licensing deals sometimes two or three years ahead of a film's release.

Merchandise tie-ins now account for a Dollars 150 billion industry, of which the UK market is worth Dollars 6.1 billion, according to the International Licensing Industry Merchandisers' Association (Lima). And although Ms Rowling might be uncomfortable with the idea, licensed merchandise adds considerably to the prices paid by parents and children.

According to industry insiders, manufacturers of toys and clothing typically pay a royalty of around 12 per cent of the wholesale price - money that's added to the mark-up. (Mattel is thought to have agreed to 15 per cent on Harry Potter toys.) On a £1 children's comic, the contribution might be 10p. With mass-market drinks, such as Coke, the royalty will normally be less than one per cent of the wholesale-price, but the film will benefit from the cans' widespread visibility.

Negotiations begin on day one of a film's planning, and are a vital part of raising finance. 'It's a well-worn formula,' says Andrew Levy, Lima's managing director, who sees nothing atypical in the Potter marketing.

Licences have a strictly limited shelf-life. 'There are classic brands, such as Tom and Jerry, where the licensing programme could go on for 50 years. But for the huge hyped movies - such as Godzilla - there will be a three-month window of licensing opportunity.' With Harry Potter, he believes Warner Bros is aiming at a series of three-month bursts: first the movie, followed nine months later by the video, and then the second movie.

So valuable are the spin-offs that marketable characters may be specifically written into films: some in the industry suggest that Buzz Lightyear was such a merchandise-led creation in Toy Story. But as Star Wars showed, the 'greed' factor is not always met by consumer demand: although Hasbro sold Dollars 500 million of light-sabres and C-3POs, a further Dollars 150 million remained on the shelves. 'You can manipulate things too much - consumers are sophisticated and can see through it,' said Ian Downes, of Saban, which licenses for Fox Kids Europe.

'Arguably, there may be too many Harry Potter products out there - only Warner Bros will know that.'

Another danger for the studios is overly hyping the film itself. Excessive advance promotion risks boring the audience - which is why Nick James, editor of Sight and Sound magazine, believes Warner has 'drip-fed' us trailers and snippets in a co-ordinated web campaign. 'Feeding little titbits is the new approach - the web has much to do with it. The more previews, more razzmatazz that's generated, the more the studio could be seen to be compromising the purity of the book.'

(Evening Standard, September 13 2001)

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Evening Standard: Coke's war on water

By David Rowan

YOU'VE finally plucked up courage to ask a sniffy waiter for a glass of tap water and the worst you're expecting is a passing scowl of disapproval. So you had better hope he hasn't been trained by Coca- Cola in its latest corporate mission - Just Say No To H2O.

Concerned at the vast potential profits lost by diners not paying for liquid refreshment, the world's largest soft drinks company has been working with restaurants to teach staff " beverage suggestive selling techniques". The plan - codename H2No - involves briefing staff to "influence" customers to reduce what is known as "tap water incidence". Each time a glass of water is requested, waiters must "emphasise the wide range of beverage selections available, including soft drinks, non- carbonated beverages and alcohol".

Especially, no doubt, those produced by Coca-Cola.

The strategy appears to be working: at least one restaurant chain has reported higher profits since training serving staff in the H2No programme. The result, says Coca-Cola, is sending "a powerful message to the entire restaurant industry - less water and more beverage choices mean happier customers".

Details emerged when the company's website told of the plan, highlighting profits at The Olive Garden restaurant chain. Under the headline "The Olive Garden targets tap water and wins", the website says: "Many customers choose tap water not because they enjoy it, but because it is what they always have drunk in the past."

To encourage them to spend more money, the American chain developed a competition with Coca-Cola offering company merchandise and an all-expenses-paid trip to Atlanta to staff who met monthly targets. "When the contest was completed, almost all participating restaurants realised significant increases in beverage sales and reduced levels of tap water incidence," the company claims.

The corporation researched why customers might order tap water, and suggested what might make them choose something else. For the 30 per cent who cite weight or other health considerations, the best strategy, it says, is to offer lighter or noncarbonated alternatives.

For those who ask for water "because it's there", waiters should never offer a glass unless it is specifically requested, and then not before using "suggestive selling techniques" to promote drinks with a price.

A number of websites have criticised the strategy. On plastic.com, one email reads: "Jesus, guys, we know you're in it for the money, you don't have to pretend you actually care." Such criticisms have prompted Coca-Cola to take down web pages relating to H2No lest people "who aren't in a sales-related business" misunderstand its purpose. (A copy has, however, been stored at this address: www.stayfreemagazine.org/public/co ke.html.) The company says the campaign, launched in the US, has not been extended to the UK.

London restaurateurs told about the scheme had little sympathy for Coca-Cola's campaign. "They're wrong about it improving the dining experience," insisted David Wilby, Antony Worrall Thompson's partner at Wiz in Notting Hill. "The way to give the customer a better experience is to give them what they want - we wouldn't raise an eyebrow if someone ordered tap water."

At The Savoy, Olivier Thomas, food and beverage manager, said: "We have no problem serving tap water and wouldn't think of charging for it."

Celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay also saw nothing embarrassing about asking for water. "I love tap water," he said, "in a really nice decantered jug". But he added: "It's only visiting chefs who ask for it."

Still, Coke's on to a winner whatever customers choose. It is selling tap water in pretty blue bottles under the brand name Dasani. The drink has been "enhanced with a special blend of minerals for a pure, fresh taste", but is otherwise straight from the local water supply. What tap-water fans might call the real thing.

(Evening Standard, September 4 2001)

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