Financial services industry has more neck than it had before the crash

It's night time. A pensive, maybe angry, man sits at the wheel of his car, trying to decide. His mind finally made up, he crosses the road and rings a door bell. While we’re waiting for an answer, another man somewhere else fires a starting pistol to get a race under way on an athletics track. Like the scene at the door, the race is being run late at night, in the dark, and also, apparently, in thick fog.

The door is answered, by an equally solemn, possibly also angry, man. This one has a beard. He takes a long hard look at the first man. “John,” he says.