Our weekly round-up of interesting and outlandish information, collected from the corners of the charity sector.
Let’s get this conversation started!
The Fundraising Preference Service has found its way back into the charity trade publication headlines this week. George ‘Billy the’ Kidd and his working group have published their long-awaited recommendations on the FPS in a paper on behalf of the Fundraising Regulator with NCVO and the results are TERRIFYING…
Wait, no, they're not that scary.
You all remember the FPS, right? This particular column’s second favourite acronym, right after "LOMBARD", which stands for "loads of money but a right dickhead".
The three letters that, for the last six months or so, have been most likely to set fundraisers to uncontrollable fits of quivering and sobbing. The self-same three letters that have sullied the restful slumber of many a fundraising agency director since September.
At the risk of boring everyone, a thorough breakdown of the working group’s recommendations can be found here. However this column is of the view that, in short, the recommendations don’t seem all that ghastly, to be honest.
Still there are one or two bits that are well worth pulling out from amongst the prose, and holding up to the forensic light of truth, justice and… well, whatever else.
Turn your attentions if you would, kind reader, to page four of the attached document. We shall begin reading from the start of the fourth paragraph: “Alongside the FPS option we think the FPS website and any supporting call centre operation should also be able to…”
Blah, blah. What the FPS call centre should be able to do is almost irrelevant, compared alongside the fact that there will be an FPS call centre in the first place. Because, given that FPS is a service for people who don't want to be called, who is the call centre going to phone up?
Diary stands very much alongside the ancient Roman poet Juvenal here, when he asked: "quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" which means, of course, "who watches the watchmen?"
Alas Juvenal didn’t have much experience of being called up on his lunchbreak by a hungover, 21-year-old, sociology major just trying to make ends meet, and asked three times whether or not he’d like to up his direct debit donation; so there is sadly no Latin phrase for: “who will call the callers?”
Juvenal? Yes. Juvenile? Possibly…
Let’s just hope this doesn’t all end acronym-moniously.
The Battle of Marathons
The Marathon des Sables. Six marathons in six days across the burning hot sands of the Sahara, carrying all your own supplies on your back.
Diary’s run a marathon before, and this column is here to tell you that it’s a long way. It’s faaar.
So why, Diary asks, would Jonathan Jenkins, well-respected and – let’s face it – well-built leader of the Social Investment Business, decide to pack up his campaign for effective loan finance, and set off across the desert?
The party line is that he wishes to “raise £10,000 for London Air Ambulance” yet, having personally admitted to sinking £4,000 of his own money into buying the kind of gear required to survive running in a desert, Diary can’t help but wonder why he didn’t just give the £4k to the charity directly and then sat down in a comfortable chair and wallowed in the self-gratification of his good deed.
Anyway, while Diary’s in a plugging mood, why not swing by Jonathan’s wonderfully titled JustGiving page ‘Man versus feet’ and donate some coin. It’s worth paying money to not have to run six marathons in the Sahara.
No smoke without tobacco
Diary is getting increasingly irritated by anti-advocacy clauses.
These are the latest inept wheeze of the Tory government. Basically they say that if government gives you a grant, you cannot use that grant money to make policy recommendations to government.
At first glance, if you trust government implicitly and you don’t like to think too hard, this might seem like a good idea.
However after a scintilla of thought, the flaws begin to burst through. If your job is to be an expert in something – so expert that someone gives you free money to do it – then maybe you should be able to suggest what government does next in your area of expertise.
Last weekend a couple of academics pointed out – more or less – that the government from time to gives out research grants to look into something, find out more about it, and make policy recommendations. It now appears that the terms of those grant agreements will ban academics from making policy recommendations.
It’s safe to say that researchers are fuming. As indeed is the source of this ridiculous policy, the Institute of Economic Affairs, but for a slightly different reason. They’re smoking because much of their funding comes from tobacco companies. Now, let’s think. Who might benefit from the inability of charities and academics to complain to government on health issues?
Handled with Kids gloves
Since Kids Company imploded in spectacular fashion last year it’s been impossible to go to any sector conference, training session or drink in a pub without everyone offering their opinion on the reasons for the collapse of the charity.
It was therefore a pleasant change for Diary to find itself at an event this week where there was no mention whatsoever of Camila Batmanghelidjh and her merry band of do-gooders.
What was the magical event you ask? Why, the NCVO Funding Conference in association with Kingston Smith (who just happened to have been Kids Company’s auditor and who for legal reasons cannot comment).
One had to admire the tact of the presenter from Barnardo’s who managed to deliver a presentation outlining how Barnardo’s had gone about measuring its own impact, including the difficulties of counting up how many people it helps, with nary an allusion to Kids Company - where the approach seems to have been to pluck numbers out of thin air - while standing just metres away from Nick Brooks.
