I have always thought of NatWest as rather like a nice London pub, trashed thoroughly by marauding Scots visiting the capital on an Anglo-Scottish soccer sporting fixture.

After the rioting, the pub runs out of beer, particularly Special Brew; the landlord sports the results of a tender Glasgow Kiss, the furniture is broken up, along with most of the windows. Oh, and the balance-sheet is flushed down the toilet.

Poor old NatWest was left tottering along after being...