Listen to Lucy

In accepting the invitation to go on a debating tour, I had expected to return with a mind full of management ideas and a suitcase full of rip-off handbags.

When it comes to describing their dark sides, leaders feel bound by one rule: any weakness is perfectly admissible, so long as it is really a strength.

Last week I went out for a pizza with a man I hadn’t seen for a while. The bill was low; I picked it up. Two days later, a small, cream envelope arrived on my doormat. Inside was a folded piece of paper on which he had written a short note saying how much he had enjoyed the occasion.

If you are listening to this during office hours on Monday, you can think of me sitting at a large table engaged in deep discussion about dividends, internal controls and appetites for risk. With me will be my fellow directors of a FTSE 100 company, 11 of us in all: nine men and two women.

She is beautiful, rich and famous. She has two television shows, one of which is named after her. She’s got her own foundation that helps deprived girls. She’s been to bed with Barack Obama. She is taking a course at Harvard Business School on how to be an entrepreneur.

When I watched Tim Armstrong on CNN last week talking about the brilliance of his decision to buy the Huffington Post, I found I didn’t believe a word he was saying.

Last week, there were two stories in the papers about bankers being taken for a ride by conmen and nutters. Both tales were profoundly enjoyable: seeing investment bankers with egg on their faces is always cheering. They were also enjoyably profound, making one question what bankers get up to all day and which talents are needed to perform those tasks well.

Last week, Fortune magazine published its latest survey of the 100 best companies to work for in the US. As I have never worked at any of them I can’t offer first hand corroboration of the rankings – though in 1981 I did try to get a job at Boston Consulting Group (rated number two in the Fortune list), but was rejected after letting slip in an interview that I had no idea what a learning curve was.

I was sitting on a train coming back to London after a board meeting in Cardiff. Life felt good: the meeting had ended a bit earlier than I’d feared and I was just getting stuck into a gin and tonic and a packet of Quavers when the ticket inspector came round. I handed her my ticket, which she pronounced not valid.

Lloyd Blankfein is in need of advice on the principles of business. Fortunately, I have just the man to give it to him: Hannu Penttilä, a Finnish shopkeeper who runs a chain of department stores.

At the beginning of every year I hand out prizes to companies and individuals who have shown the greatest flair in butchering the English language or in talking through their hats during the previous 12 months.

Even though it’s a weekday and during working hours, I’m in bed. The reason for such slovenliness is that I’m not feeling my best. Too unwell to feel like getting up, yet not so unwell that I can’t move my fingers over a keyboard.

This week I’ve decided to focus on two things that are always popular at this time of year. Layoffs and stand-up rows.

Last Monday I had a delightful lunch with the turkey ambassador. He didn’t appear to know anything much about Ankara or care whether Turkey joined the European Union, but seemed more interested in what people eat for Christmas. He was the chef, Marco Pierre White, who had just been given the title by Bernard Matthews, the biggest British turkey producer, and was therefore flying the flag of the battery bird.

At a party last week I met a man who told me he had just lost his job. I commiserated, but he said it was OK, he was well out of it. He explained that his boss was a fool who could not cope with having an underling who was far brighter and more charismatic than him. The man looked perfectly cheerful and reassured me that his pay-off had been large, and the move was his employer’s loss.