Business

Tomorrow is May Day, and somewhere in the middle of the country, a married couple in their early forties is opening up a small bakery for the third Friday in succession on which they have not, between them, drawn a salary.

They started the business in 2022. They re-mortgaged the house. They missed two of their daughter’s school plays last term, including the one where she had a line. They have not, for nineteen months, taken a day off. They are, on the official ONS labour-market classification, “self-employed”, which is to say they are not, technically, considered workers at all.

I would like, on this particular May Day, to suggest that they are.

There is a particular sleight-of-hand in British political language that has, over the last fifty years or so, produced an increasingly narrow definition of the word “worker”. A worker, in current usage, is someone who is paid by an employer in return for doing a job, ideally with a contract, a payslip, and a pension contribution. The “workers’ movement”, in modern parlance, is the political and industrial movement representing exactly that figure. Anyone outside the definition is, by implication, something else, an entrepreneur, an investor, a self-employed person, a small-business owner, a family-firm founder. They get other ministries, other sympathies, other adjectives. They do not, on the whole, get celebrated on May Day.

This is, frankly, ridiculous. The bakery couple work, on the broad numbers, more hours than any of their employees. They take home, on average, less per hour than their employees. They have less holiday, less protection, less pension, less sick pay, less of everything. Their economic risk is total. Their political clout is somewhere between negligible and non-existent. Their public image, in much of British political discourse, is closer to that of the tax-avoiding non-dom than that of the sympathetic NHS porter, which is, when you actually meet either, a perfect inversion of reality.

There are, by the latest ONS estimate, just over 4.3 million self-employed workers in the UK. Of those, around 600,000 run businesses with employees of their own. They collectively contribute approximately £303 billion to UK GDP, which is more than the entire UK financial-services sector. They pay corporation tax, dividend tax, capital gains tax, employer NICs, business rates, VAT, and insurance premium tax. They keep more than three million Britons in PAYE jobs. They are, in any meaningful definition, the productive backbone of the country.

And, for at least the last decade, they have been treated by every successive UK administration with a mixture of mild benign neglect and occasional, almost incidental, cruelty. IR35 was a cruelty. Making Tax Digital is a cruelty. The narrowing of business property relief on inheritance tax has been a cruelty. The withdrawal of various small expenses and reliefs has been a cruelty. None of these things has been done because anyone in Whitehall actively dislikes the small-business owner; it is rather that, in the present political configuration, the small-business owner is too small to matter, too dispersed to organise, and too busy to march. The civil servants drafting the SI get the headline figures right, and the headline figures, individually, are small.

May Day, in its original conception, was a workers’ holiday, but, as anyone with any knowledge of the period will tell you, the “workers” it commemorated were not, exclusively, the wage-labour pay-packet figure of present-day usage. They were the broader productive class: artisans, shopkeepers, mechanics, makers, the journeymen in the literal sense who worked with their own tools to produce something useful. A baker in Walsall, in 2026, getting up at 4am to mix the dough, fits that older definition perfectly. The fact that she has, technically, incorporated herself as a private limited company should not, surely, exclude her from the holiday.

I do not, please understand, wish to undermine the more familiar version of May Day. The march, the bunting, the speeches, the flag, they are part of a recognisable British political tradition that I rather enjoy. I just would like, this year, to make a small modest plea for the inclusion in it of the people whose labour is no less skilled, no less hard-won, no less honest, and considerably less protected, than the labour the day was originally meant to celebrate.

So if you are in the bakery this morning, or the small workshop, or the family-run pub, or the consultancy that lives at the kitchen table, or the farm that has been in your name for thirty years, happy May Day. The country is, despite the available evidence, better off because of you. Take five minutes off, if you can. Drink a coffee. Watch the bunting. And, before you go back to it, remember that whatever the textbook says, and whatever the marching song goes, the work you do is, exactly, work.

Read more:
On May Day, spare a thought for the workers who took the risk and built the bloody company

There is a particular kind of dinner I have, every couple of months, in a particular kind of place, a Soho members’ club that lets you bring more than three people without an interrogation, in this case, with a particular kind of British technology founder.

He is, by his late thirties, on his third successful company. He has, between them, raised something north of £180 million in venture capital. He has, currently, about 220 employees in London, with another fifty due to be hired in the coming twelve months. He has, last week, sold a further $40 million tranche of his Series C to two American funds.

And he has, somewhere between his second and third glass of red, told me that he is moving the company’s headquarters to New York. Not on principle. Not on tax. Not on regulation. Not even, despite the obvious temptation in this column, on the Chancellor. He is moving because the next $200 million he needs, in 18 months, is in New York, and the practical day-to-day life of a CEO in a series of monthly trips to a city eight time zones from his children is, frankly, too painful. So he is moving the family. The London office will remain. It will, over time, get smaller. A version of this conversation has happened, by my count, with at least twelve British founders I know personally in the last two years.

Britain does not, in 2026, have a start-up problem. We start-up exquisitely. We have, by any international comparison, more new technology businesses per capita than nearly any other developed economy. Cambridge is, on its own, one of the great clusters of the world. London’s software and fintech ecosystems are deeper than Berlin’s, deeper than Paris’s, comparable to New York’s on most measures, with a couple of exceptions. We have brilliant universities, a working tax-incentive regime in EIS, a meaningful angel community, and a steady flow of seed and Series A capital.

What we have is a stay-at-home problem.

The numbers are visible if anyone bothers to look. UK technology IPOs, by listed value, are running at less than 12 per cent of US listings adjusted for relative GDP. UK Series C and onwards rounds are dominated, by deal count, by American lead investors. The proportion of UK technology companies founded in 2018 that have, by 2025, relocated their corporate domicile overseas, to the US, to Delaware, to Ireland, to Singapore, is now over 22 per cent. The proportion of all UK-founded unicorns that listed on the New York Stock Exchange or Nasdaq, rather than the London Stock Exchange, is over 80 per cent for the last decade. Eighty.

Why? It is not, despite the City lobbying, primarily a tax problem. American capital gains rates are not, in any meaningful sense, more friendly to founders than British rates. It is not, despite a great deal of Treasury-led discussion, a corporate-tax problem. The US corporate tax rate, when you blend federal and state, is comparable. It is not, despite the political mood music, a regulatory problem in the technology sectors that matter, the FCA, where it counts for fintech, is a notably more friendly regulator than its American equivalent.

It is, primarily, a depth-of-capital-pool problem. The UK pension system, despite the most articulate efforts of the Edinburgh Reforms and the Mansion House Compact and a half-dozen subsequent initiatives, allocates an embarrassingly small proportion of its £3 trillion of assets to growth-stage British equities. Canadian pension funds are, statistically, more invested in British scale-ups than British pension funds. This is the absurdity of the present situation: the world’s ninth-largest pension industry, hosted in Britain, is not investing in British growth, and is being out-deployed, in British growth equity, by Canadians, Australians, and Americans.

Fix the depth, and the rest of the problem largely goes with it. There are about three things to do. First, get UK Defined Contribution pension money, which is, by the way, growing at over £100 billion a year, into a properly structured British scale-up vehicle, at a meaningful target allocation, with a proper governance overlay. Second, restore the pre-2008 status of the London Stock Exchange as a competitive listing venue for technology businesses, by reforming the dual-class share structures and the listing-rules architecture that has kept it stranded in the era of utilities and miners. Third, make the EIS reliefs permanent, generous, and unfussy at the seed stage, so that the early-stage capital remains the easiest tier to raise.

None of this is impossible. None of this is even, in the international context, particularly bold. The Australians did most of it in 2008. The Canadians did most of it in 2014. The Singaporeans built theirs in around six years. We are, in 2026, still pondering it.

And in the meantime, my Soho friend will, in the autumn, leave. He will take the family. He will keep the London office. The American round will close. The next British unicorn, and there will be a next British unicorn, will, on present trajectory, list, again, in New York. The Mayoral candidates will, on the day after, all denounce the loss to “Brand London”. And the bottle of red, in our particular Soho members’ club, will be uncorked, again, by someone else.

We start-up brilliantly, in this country. We just need, finally, to learn how to keep them. The May locals, it turns out, are not the only thing on the ballot.

Read more:
Britain doesn’t have a start-up problem, it has a stay-at-home problem

There is a particular kind of silence that descends on a once-busy restaurant when last orders have come and gone, the candles have guttered, and the chef is out the back having a cigarette and contemplating bankruptcy. It is the sound of a small dream dying. And right now, across Britain, that silence is becoming deafening.

I have just returned from dinner at a perfectly nice neighbourhood bistro in west London, where the owner, a man who quit a comfortable banking job to chase the romance of feeding people, confessed somewhere between the burrata and the lamb that he is closing in September. Not because nobody comes. They come. They eat. They tip. They order the second bottle. But the maths, he sighed, no longer mathses.

The story is the same in every postcode. UKHospitality reckons we lost roughly one pub or restaurant every single day last year. The Hospitality Rising figures are grimmer still: chefs walking away, dining rooms going dark, sites being flogged off to coffee chains and vape shops. And yet our Chancellor has decided that what this fragile, brilliant, world-beating sector really needs is a thumping great kicking.

Let us count the bruises. From April 2025, employer National Insurance jumped to 15 per cent. The threshold at which businesses begin paying it was slashed from £9,100 to £5,000, which is a fancy Treasury way of saying that every waiter, every glass-polisher, every Saturday-morning kitchen porter is now considerably more expensive to employ. Throw in the National Living Wage rising to £12.21 an hour, business rates relief shrivelling from 75 per cent to a measly 40 per cent, and a stubborn refusal to cut hospitality VAT to anything resembling our European competitors, and you have what UKHospitality calculated as an additional £3.4 billion annual hit on the sector. Three-point-four. Billion. With a B.

To which Rachel Reeves and Sir Keir Starmer have essentially shrugged and said: tough. Get on with it. Be more productive. Use AI. Yes, really, the Prime Minister actually suggested artificial intelligence was the answer to the front-of-house labour crisis. Has the man ever tried to get a chatbot to recommend the Picpoul de Pinet over the Sancerre, or to deal with a four-top of accountants splitting the bill seventeen ways?

I am not, as a rule, a conspiracist. But I am beginning to wonder whether this is plain incompetence or something darker. Because if you sat down with a clean sheet of paper and deliberately tried to design a policy package guaranteed to incinerate independent restaurants, you would land more or less exactly where this Government has landed. Hammer the labour costs. Hammer the property costs. Refuse the one tax cut, VAT, that would actually move the needle. Drive away the high-spending non-doms who used to keep Mayfair humming, propose extending the smoking ban to pub gardens and pavement tables, then make it harder still to recruit from abroad. Magnifique.

The rationale, presumably, is that restaurants are a luxury, frequented by people who can afford it, staffed by people who do not vote Labour. Easy political target. Wrong, of course. Our sector employs 3.5 million people, more than half of them under 30, many in their first proper job, learning skills no classroom ever taught, graft, courtesy, and how to charm a furious German tourist out of a complaint about the size of the prawns. Killing restaurants does not punish the rich. It punishes the kid from Croydon who wanted to be a sommelier, the Polish chef who built a life here, and the landlady whose pub still kept her village alive.

And here is the bit Reeves seems incapable of grasping: hospitality does not just feed us. It powers tourism, it props up high streets, it fills supply chains from Cornish dairies to Yorkshire breweries to the Kentish vineyards her colleagues love being photographed at. When a restaurant closes, the butcher feels it, the laundry firm feels it, the cab driver feels it, the florist feels it. You do not just lose a place to eat. You lose an entire ecosystem.

I had hoped, fool that I am, that this Labour Government might understand that. Many of its members, after all, claim to enjoy the occasional supper out, although one suspects most of theirs arrives by Deliveroo on the public purse. But policy after policy has revealed either profound ignorance of how a small business actually functions, or active hostility towards anyone who took a punt on themselves rather than waited patiently for a public sector pay rise.

The lights are going out across our high streets. The chairs are being stacked. The wine is being sold off at cost. And our Chancellor, when asked, musters only the platitude that growth takes time.

So does dying, Rachel. So does dying.

Read more:
Last orders for British hospitality: Are Reeves and Starmer trying to kill the UK restaurant sector?

Bristol and Edinburgh are emerging as the unlikely engines of Britain’s innovation economy, posting the country’s fastest-growing workforces among technology firms, university spin-outs and patent holders, according to fresh research that lays bare the persistent funding gap with the so-called golden triangle.

Headcount at innovative companies in Bristol jumped 65 per cent between 2019 and 2024, with Edinburgh up 43 per cent over the same period, comfortably outpacing Oxford on 40 per cent and Cambridge on 26 per cent, the analysis of nearly 40,000 businesses reveals.

The study, conducted by the research firm Beauhurst, classifies an “innovative” company as one that is either a university spin-out, the recipient of an innovation grant of £100,000 or more, the holder of a patent, or a technology business that has secured equity investment.

Yet despite the workforce surge in regional hubs, capital remains stubbornly concentrated in the south-east. Some 80 per cent of venture capital invested in the UK still finds its way to London, Oxford or Cambridge, the report finds, a figure that is likely to reignite debate over whether Whitehall’s levelling-up rhetoric is being matched by private-sector reality.

Karim Bahou, head of innovation at Sister, the Manchester-based innovation district that commissioned the study, said the work was designed to shed light on the structural reasons behind the funding gap that continues to dog regional cities.

Manchester itself, Bahou’s analysis found, is punching well above its weight. On a per-capita basis the city is on a par with the capital, with each boasting two innovative companies for every 1,000 residents.

Bahou is now urging cities outside the golden triangle to forge so-called “innovation corridors” between themselves rather than continuing to orbit London. The corridors, established networks linking regions that routinely collaborate on funding and company-building, allow capital, talent and intellectual property to flow more freely across the country.

Scotland’s central belt is leading the way. The Edinburgh-Glasgow corridor has already racked up 448 partnerships, including 378 investments and 70 research grants, making it the most deeply integrated city-to-city innovation network in the UK.

“Up in Scotland we see some really strong links between Glasgow and Edinburgh. This is where we think there is an opportunity to apply a Scottish model to the rest of the country,” Bahou said.

The report goes on to recommend devolving research and development tax incentives to regional authorities, establishing dedicated regional investment funds to unlock deal flow beyond the capital, and developing physical innovation districts, Sister itself is cited as an example, to keep intellectual property and talent rooted locally.

“We’ve got the Northern Powerhouse Fund, and that’s brilliant. We should be doubling down on funds like that, that focus on specific regions and the strength they bring,” Bahou said. “But investors themselves need to come and see what’s happening up in the north, we’ve got some incredible businesses here.”

Read more:
Bristol leads UK innovation jobs boom as the regions close the gap on London

Britain’s distillers have been handed an unexpected fillip after Donald Trump announced the removal of all US tariffs and restrictions on whisky imports, a concession the president attributed directly to the influence of King Charles and Queen Camilla’s four-day state visit to America.

The decision, revealed on Trump’s Truth Social platform shortly after the royal couple departed for the UK, brings to an end a punishing 10 per cent levy that the Scotch Whisky Association estimates has been costing the industry roughly £4m a week, some £150m over the past year, at a time when distillers were already bracing for a further 25 per cent charge on single malts due to return this spring.

For an industry that counts the United States as its largest export market, with shipments worth close to £1bn annually, the timing could scarcely have been more welcome. Trump told reporters in Washington that the King and Queen “got me to do something that nobody else was able to do, without hardly even asking”, adding that he had moved “in honour” of his royal guests.

Buckingham Palace responded with characteristic understatement. A spokesperson said the King had conveyed his “sincere gratitude” to the president and would be “raising a dram to the President’s thoughtfulness”.

The decision also unlocks renewed commercial co-operation between Scotland and the Commonwealth of Kentucky, two regions historically intertwined through the trade in used bourbon barrels. The Scotch industry imports roughly £200m-worth of these casks from Kentucky each year, using them to mature its single malts and blends. Trump noted the linkage explicitly, describing both as “very important industries” in their respective territories.

Graeme Littlejohn, director of strategy at the Scotch Whisky Association, told Business Matters the industry was “delighted” by the move. “Distillers will breathe a sigh of relief now that these tariffs are off,” he said. “It’s really thanks to the huge amount of negotiation that’s been going on over many months, at a very senior level. Perhaps the state visit has been the catalyst for getting this over the line, and the King’s added that little bit of royal sparkle to make the deal work.”

Scotland’s First Minister, John Swinney, hailed the announcement as “tremendous news for Scotland”, noting that “millions of pounds were being lost every month from the Scottish economy” under the previous regime. He paid particular tribute to the monarch’s behind-the-scenes role.

The UK government confirmed that the removal applies to all whisky tariffs, including those affecting Irish whiskey producers, a clarification that will be welcomed by distillers on both sides of the Irish Sea. Peter Kyle, the Business and Trade Secretary, called the breakthrough “great news for our Scotch whisky industry, which is worth almost £1bn in exports and supports thousands of jobs across the UK”.

For SMEs across the sector, from craft distillers in Speyside to family-run bottlers in the Highlands and Islands, the lifting of tariffs offers a tangible reprieve. Single malts, which command premium prices in the American market, have been disproportionately affected by the Trump-era levies, and smaller producers without the balance-sheet depth of multinational rivals have felt the squeeze most acutely.

The development represents a rare instance of soft power translating directly into hard economic gain. Whether it heralds a broader thaw in transatlantic trade relations remains to be seen, but for an industry that has spent the better part of a year absorbing the costs of protectionism, the immediate message is clear: the dram is back on.

Read more:
Whisky tariffs lifted as Trump hails royal state visit

Christina Ong’s Como Group has emerged as a key shareholder in the lossmaking SL6, the holding company behind The Fat Duck and the Hinds Head, handing the celebrity chef the firepower to expand.

The Singaporean billionaire long credited with turning London’s Bond Street into a luxury catwalk has set her sights on a rather more idiosyncratic British institution: the country kitchen of Heston Blumenthal.

Christina Ong, the 78-year-old fashion mogul and hotelier dubbed the “Queen of Bond Street”, has emerged as the new financial backer of the celebrity chef’s lossmaking restaurant empire. Filings lodged this week show that her family’s Como Group has become a key shareholder with significant control of SL6, the holding company behind Blumenthal’s culinary ventures.

The deal hands the Ong family a foothold in one of British gastronomy’s most distinctive brands and offers the chef the financial muscle to push into new markets. It is understood the cash injection will underpin the expansion of Blumenthal’s award-winning operations, headed by The Fat Duck in Bray, Berkshire, the three-Michelin-starred restaurant that almost single-handedly placed British “molecular gastronomy” on the world map when it opened in 1995. Blumenthal, 59, also operates the nearby Hinds Head pub close to Maidenhead.

“Como’s international experience in the hospitality sector opens up new doors for what comes next,” Blumenthal said, adding that the partnership would allow the group to “explore new possibilities”.

The investment arrives at a delicate moment for SL6. In its most recent set of accounts, the company conceded it was in talks with potential investors to secure long-term funding “to help overcome the current economic challenges [and] provide a foundation for future growth”. For the 12 months to the end of May 2024, revenues fell to £8.9 million from £9.5 million while pre-tax losses widened to £2.1 million, up from £1.4 million the previous year.

A spokeswoman for the company sought to balance the picture, insisting that demand for reservations across both restaurants remained robust and that the Hinds Head had delivered consistent month-on-month growth over the past 18 months, putting it on course for a record year.

Ong’s arrival comes only weeks after Blumenthal confirmed the closure of Dinner by Heston, his two-Michelin-starred ode to historical British cookery housed within the Mandarin Oriental in Knightsbridge. The London site, which opened in 2011, will shut once the hotel tenancy expires, although a sister Dinner by Heston, opened in 2023 inside the Atlantis The Royal hotel on Dubai’s Palm Jumeirah, continues to trade.

For Como Group, the deal extends a hospitality and lifestyle empire that already spans 15 countries. Headquartered in Singapore and controlled by the Ong family, it operates 11 restaurants, the bulk of them in its home city, alongside a portfolio of 19 luxury hotels and resorts in markets including London, Italy, France, the Maldives, Bali, Australia and Thailand. The group’s first foray into food and beverage came in 1989, when it opened the Armani Café in London.

Ong herself is a fixture of British retail and luxury. She founded the Club21 fashion boutiques in 1972 and, through Challice, the investment vehicle she runs with her 80-year-old husband Ong Beng Seng, holds a 56 per cent stake in Mulberry, the British leather goods house. Her interests also include a string of fashion franchise stores running brands such as Emporio Armani.

“We see this partnership as the beginning of something very special,” Ong said. “We look forward to supporting that continued evolution of these iconic restaurants, while unlocking new opportunities for thoughtful growth in the years ahead.”

The deal also marks a public reappearance for the Ong family on the corporate stage. Last year, Ong Beng Seng was fined S$23,400 after pleading guilty to a charge linked to a gift scandal involving a former Singaporean government minister. He had faced a maximum penalty of seven years’ imprisonment, but a judge granted “judicial mercy” in light of his poor health.

For Blumenthal, who has spent three decades coaxing Britons into eating snail porridge and bacon-and-egg ice cream, the message to the dining public is more prosaic. With Como’s chequebook now within reach, the chef has the runway to refresh, and quite possibly enlarge, an empire that, for all its critical acclaim, has been struggling to make the books balance.

Read more:
Singapore’s ‘Queen of Bond Street’ takes a seat at Heston Blumenthal’s table

Britain’s reputation as Europe’s cleantech powerhouse is being undermined by a brutal funding drought at the very bottom of the pipeline, with new figures showing investment in the country’s youngest low-carbon and renewable energy companies has collapsed to its lowest level in five years.

Research published by Cleantech for UK (CTUK) reveals that the value of early-stage deals halved in 2025, while the number of transactions plunged from 188 in 2024 to just 94 last year. The slump comes despite the broader sector pulling in £7.2 billion of investment overall, comfortably outstripping Germany’s £1.7 billion and France’s £1.4 billion.

The headline figure may flatter to deceive. Strip away the late-stage mega-deals and a far more uncomfortable picture emerges of an industry whose seed corn is being eaten before it has chance to germinate.

“If we allow the pipeline to dry up now, it means we’ll have no new innovation in cleantech coming through in five years’ time,” warns Sarah Mackintosh, director of CTUK and a former head of innovation at the Department for Business, Energy and Industrial Strategy. “Funders will be sitting there waiting for scale-ups and none will come.”

CTUK, established in 2023 to bridge the gap between Whitehall and the venture community, attributes the early-stage collapse to what it terms a “triple squeeze”: punishingly high industrial energy prices, the quiet closure last year of the Government’s Net Zero Innovation Portfolio without a successor, and investor caution rooted in higher interest rates.

Westminster’s recent decision to decouple gas and electricity prices, severing the link that has long allowed expensive gas to set the price for cheaper renewables, is expected to deliver what Mackintosh calls a “fairly immediate impact”. Yet it does little to address the underlying reality that British industrial energy costs remain among the dearest in Europe, a particular handicap for the capital-hungry sectors at the heart of the energy transition such as battery manufacturing and carbon capture infrastructure.

To these domestic headwinds has been added a fresh geopolitical shock. The US-Iran conflict and tensions around the Strait of Hormuz have rekindled fears of an oil and gas price spiral, with the International Monetary Fund warning that Britain faces the sharpest growth downgrade in the G7 and one of the highest inflation rates as a consequence.

Mackintosh notes that higher rates and the increase in employers’ national insurance contributions have also dulled the appetite of venture capital firms, whose money, she says, “doesn’t go as far as it used to”.

The picture is rather rosier further up the funding ladder. Total equity investment in cleantech rose by 58 per cent year-on-year to £3.9 billion, though the bulk of that capital flowed to software businesses and proven, late-stage operators. Among the standouts was a £750 million raise by Kraken, the energy technology platform owned by Octopus Energy Group, and a £130 million round for energy infrastructure specialist Highview Power. The total nevertheless sits well shy of the £11.9 billion peak struck in 2023.

CTUK is now urging the National Wealth Fund and the British Business Bank to deploy their firepower more aggressively to help young firms cross the so-called valley of death between a laboratory breakthrough and a commercial factory. The National Wealth Fund signalled in January that it intends to channel up to £5 billion a year of taxpayer money into green energy projects, but the question for SMEs is whether any of that will reach companies still trying to prove their technology at scale.

Mackintosh points to British innovators such as battery-tech firm Anaphite, materials specialist Immaterial and carbon-removal venture Supercritical as the sort of “world-leading” businesses now in jeopardy. “These are the sorts of companies that are going to put the UK on the map,” she says. “It would be a travesty if we didn’t even start the ideas because they haven’t got the backing to scale up.”

For a Government that has staked much of its industrial strategy on green growth, the warning lights are flashing. Without urgent intervention to rekindle early-stage investment, ministers risk presiding over a clean-energy economy that imports tomorrow’s breakthrough technologies rather than exports them.

Read more:
Britain’s green start-ups face ‘triple squeeze’ as early-stage funding crashes to five-year low

Big ideas are easy to talk about. Bringing them to life is harder. Karan Gupta has built his career on doing both. He works at the intersection of technology, design, and storytelling. His focus is simple. Build things that people actually use and care about.

“I’ve always been interested in how ideas move from concept to reality,” Karan says. “Execution is where most ideas either succeed or fall apart.”

His journey shows how that mindset developed over time.

Early Life: Growing Up Around Innovation

Karan Gupta grew up in San Francisco. The environment around him played a big role in shaping his thinking. He was exposed to technology, creativity, and constant change at a young age.

“I didn’t see innovation as something abstract,” he explains. “It was part of everyday life.”

This early exposure sparked his interest in how products are built and how people interact with them. It also helped him see that technology is not just about tools. It is about people.

UC Berkeley: Learning by Building

Karan attended the University of California, Berkeley. He studied Media Studies and Entrepreneurship. But his most important lessons came outside the classroom.

During college, he launched a digital magazine and a city-focused podcast. These projects gave him real experience in building and managing ideas.

“I wanted to test what I was learning in real time,” he says. “You learn a lot faster when you actually put something out into the world.”

The digital magazine focused on content and audience engagement. The podcast explored local culture and community stories. Both projects required consistent effort and adaptability.

“These weren’t just school projects,” Karan explains. “They were experiments in understanding what people respond to.”

Through this work, he learned how to create, manage, and grow an audience. He also learned how to handle feedback.

“If people don’t connect with what you’re building, you need to adjust,” he says. “That’s part of the process.”

Career Path: Building in Technology and Creative Industries

After graduating, Karan moved into roles across the technology and creative industries. His work focused on digital strategy, user experience, and brand storytelling.

He became known for combining creativity with structure. This allowed him to turn ideas into clear, usable products and campaigns.

“Creativity is important,” he says. “But without structure, it doesn’t go anywhere.”

Over time, he took on leadership roles. He worked with teams to develop campaigns and build products that reached different audiences.

“People don’t engage with complexity,” Karan explains. “They engage with clarity.”

His approach is based on simplifying ideas. He focuses on making sure that users understand what they are seeing and why it matters.

How Karan Gupta Brings Ideas to Life

A key part of Karan’s work is execution. He believes that ideas only matter if they are carried through to completion.

“Anyone can have a good idea,” he says. “The challenge is following through.”

He focuses on a few core principles:

Start with a clear goal
Understand the audience
Build, test, and adjust

“These steps sound simple,” he says. “But they require discipline.”

His experience with early projects helped shape this mindset. Launching a magazine and podcast taught him that progress comes from action, not planning alone.

“You can’t wait for everything to be perfect,” he adds. “You have to start.”

Leadership Style: Building Strong Teams

As Karan’s career grew, so did his role as a leader. He now focuses on building teams that can execute effectively.

“My role is to help people do their best work,” he says.

He believes in clear communication and shared direction. He also values collaboration.

“Good ideas can come from anywhere,” he explains. “You need to create space for that.”

His leadership style is practical. He focuses on results, but also on process.

“If the process is strong, the outcomes usually follow,” he says.

Mentorship and Giving Back

Outside of his main work, Karan spends time mentoring young creatives and entrepreneurs. He sees this as a natural extension of his career.

“I had guidance early on,” he says. “It made a difference.”

He now shares what he has learned with others. His focus is on helping people build skills and confidence.

“Talent is important,” he says. “But mindset is what drives long-term growth.”

He encourages young professionals to stay curious and take action.

“Don’t overthink the first step,” he adds. “Just start building.”

Life Outside Work: Staying Creative

Karan’s personal interests reflect his professional mindset. He enjoys photography, travel, and exploring new ideas.

“Seeing new places helps you think differently,” he says.

He also spends time exploring San Francisco and experimenting with food. These activities help him stay creative.

“Taking a step back often leads to better ideas,” he explains.

A Career Built on Execution and Clarity

Karan Gupta’s career is not defined by one role or title. It is defined by a consistent approach. Start with an idea. Build it. Improve it. Repeat.

“I try to focus on what actually works,” he says. “Not just what sounds good.”

His work shows that success often comes from simple principles applied well. Clear thinking. Strong execution. And a focus on people.

In a fast-moving industry, those fundamentals continue to matter. And for Karan, they remain at the center of everything he builds.

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Karan Gupta: Turning Ideas Into Real-World Impact

Sir Stephen Fry has launched a £100,000 personal injury claim against the organisers of a major London technology conference, in a case that should give every events business and SME conference organiser pause for thought on public liability and venue safety.

The 68-year-old broadcaster and author is suing CogX Festival Ltd and creative agency Blonstein Events Ltd after he fell roughly two metres from the stage at the O2 Arena in September 2023, sustaining multiple fractures to his right leg, pelvis and ribs. Court documents lodged on his behalf reveal that Sir Stephen had just delivered a keynote address on artificial intelligence when he stepped off the stage into what he later described as “nothing but a six-foot drop onto concrete”.

The legal filings allege that the incident “was caused by the negligence and/or breach of statutory duty of the Defendants, its servants or agents, in failing to ensure that the stage and backstage area were safe, adequately lit and properly protected to prevent a fall from height”.

Keith Barrett of Fieldfisher, the law firm acting for Sir Stephen, said: “It’s very unfortunate that court proceedings were necessary, but the Defendants do not accept Sir Stephen’s account of events, and we have had to ask the court to determine who is responsible for his injury and losses.”

A spokesman for CogX said the company was “unable to comment while the legal process is ongoing”, adding that the team had been “deeply concerned” when the accident occurred and continued to wish Sir Stephen a full recovery. Blonstein Events Ltd, meanwhile, struck a more combative tone, stating that no court proceedings had yet been served and that both the company and its insurers were “confident that our defence will be successful as we were in no way responsible for this incident”.

The case lands at a delicate moment for Britain’s £70 billion business events sector, which has worked hard to rebuild bookings since the pandemic and is now under renewed scrutiny over duty-of-care obligations to speakers, exhibitors and delegates. For the thousands of SMEs that operate within the conference, festival and corporate hospitality supply chain, from production houses and staging contractors to venue managers and creative agencies, the dispute is a sobering reminder of how quickly a flagship event can turn into a balance-sheet liability.

Under the Health and Safety at Work etc. Act 1974 and the Work at Height Regulations 2005, organisers carry a clear statutory duty to assess and mitigate fall risks on raised platforms. Public liability cover for events of this scale typically starts at £5 million, but legal costs, reputational damage and the disruption of a contested claim can dwarf any insurance pay-out. Industry insurers have been warning for some time that premiums are hardening, particularly where risk assessments, lighting plans and edge protection are not properly documented.

Sir Stephen, who relied on a walking stick for several months after the fall, told BBC Radio 2’s Claudia Winkleman in December 2023 that he considered himself fortunate. “The person treating me told me he was treating a patient who had fallen on the same day as me, half the distance, and would never walk again. So I really praise my lucky stars. If it had been the spine or the skull, who knows.”

Greenwich Council confirmed at the time that it had been alerted to the incident and was considering whether to open a formal investigation. The outcome of the High Court action, and any regulatory follow-up, will be watched closely by event organisers, venues and their underwriters.

For SME operators in the events space, the message is unambiguous. Robust risk assessments, certified edge protection, properly briefed stage management and watertight contractual indemnities between principal contractors and sub-contractors are no longer nice-to-haves. They are the difference between a profitable event and a six-figure claim.

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Mark Zuckerberg’s pledge to deliver “personal superintelligence” fails to calm Wall Street as the social media group lifts its 2026 capital expenditure forecast by another $10bn, even as an algorithm overhaul drives record time spent on Instagram and Facebook.

Meta Platforms wiped roughly 7 per cent off its share price in after-hours trading on Wall Street last night after the owner of Facebook, Instagram and WhatsApp jolted investors with another sharp increase in its artificial intelligence spending plans, even as a sweeping algorithm overhaul drove record engagement across its apps.

The Silicon Valley group, run by Mark Zuckerberg, said it now expected capital expenditure to come in at between $125 billion and $145 billion in 2026, up from the $115 billion to $135 billion range it had pencilled in only months earlier. The revised guidance pushed shares down $46.62, or 7 per cent, to $622.50 in extended trading in New York, despite first-quarter sales and profits that comfortably beat City and Wall Street forecasts.

The reaction underlines the growing unease among shareholders over Big Tech’s escalating AI arms race, with the world’s largest technology companies pouring tens of billions of dollars into data centres, custom chips and machine-learning talent in a bid not to be left behind, a dynamic that is increasingly setting the cost of doing business for smaller rivals and the digital advertising market on which countless British SMEs now depend.

Zuckerberg sought to reassure the market that the spending would pay off, arguing that Meta’s algorithm changes were already translating into stickier users and a more lucrative advertising business. The chief executive said improvements to content ranking had lifted “real time” spent on Instagram by 10 per cent in the first quarter, while video engagement on Facebook climbed by more than 8 per cent globally, the biggest quarter-on-quarter jump in four years.

Susan Li, chief financial officer, told analysts that Meta had doubled the length of user interactions used to train Instagram’s recommendation systems during the period, allowing its AI models to “develop a deeper understanding of user interests”. Engineers had also accelerated the speed at which fresh posts were surfaced, using “more advanced content understanding techniques” to identify content that might appeal to a user “even if they haven’t engaged with a lot of similar content”.

More than half a billion users on each of Facebook and Instagram are now consuming AI-translated videos after the company began auto-dubbing clips into a viewer’s local language, a move designed to widen the pool of recommendable content and, ultimately, monetisable inventory. Across Meta’s family of apps, daily active users hit 3.56 billion in the first quarter.

The increased engagement is feeding directly into the advertising machine that still generates the lion’s share of Meta’s revenues. Total ad impressions rose 19 per cent year-on-year in the period, as the group’s automated, AI-powered ad platform, which lets brands personalise campaigns at scale, continued to gain traction with marketers, including the small and mid-sized advertisers that increasingly account for the bulk of its long tail.

Zuckerberg used the earnings call to set out his most ambitious vision yet for the technology, telling investors that Meta intended to build AI agents capable of delivering “personal superintelligence” to billions of people. He said he wanted Meta’s products to “understand people’s goals specifically and then be able to just go work on them for them, and check back in”, whether those goals related to health, learning, relationships or careers.

“Literally every person in the world is going to want some version of it,” he said, suggesting that consumers would be “willing to pay a lot of money to have premium or high compute versions” — a hint that Meta is preparing to layer subscription products on top of its traditionally ad-funded model.

AI models, Zuckerberg added, would help Meta to “develop a first principles understanding of what you care about and what each piece of content in our system is about, so that way, we can show you more useful things for what you’re trying to accomplish.”

The bullish tone on AI sat uneasily, however, with the group’s plans to cut roughly 8,000 staff, or 10 per cent of its workforce, in May. Pressed on whether the technology would ultimately replace human workers, Zuckerberg insisted his view differed from much of Silicon Valley.

“My view of AI is very different from many others in the industry,” he said. “I hear a lot of people out there talk about how AI is going to replace people instead. I think that AI is going to amplify people’s ability to do what you want, whether that’s to improve your health, your learning, your relationships, your ability to achieve your personal career goals, and more.”

Li told analysts she was “unsure about the optimal workforce size” for the company, but said management was determined to use AI tools to “substantially increase our productivity”. She added: “We’re approaching this with a bias for wanting to use these tools to build even more products and services than we would have before. At the same time, we’re making very significant investments in infrastructure, and we are very focused on continuing to operate efficiently. So I think we will be continuously evaluating how we’re structured, just to make sure we’re best set up to deliver against our priorities over the coming years.”

For all the angst over capital spending, the underlying numbers were strong. Meta reported first-quarter revenue of $56.3 billion, ahead of Wall Street’s $55.58 billion consensus. Net income jumped 61 per cent year-on-year to $26.8 billion, well clear of the $17.2 billion analysts had pencilled in, although the figure was flattered by an $8 billion tax benefit linked to the US tax reform package signed into law last July.

The question now facing shareholders is whether Zuckerberg’s vast bet on AI infrastructure will deliver the productivity gains and new revenue lines needed to justify the bill, or whether, as some on Wall Street fear, the social media empire is about to enter another costly chapter of the metaverse playbook, only this time with a different acronym.

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