After Wirecard: is it time to audit the auditors?

The industry’s failure to spot holes in the accounts of several collapsed companies has led to clamour for reform writes Jonathan Ford and Tabby Kinder in The FT


At the end of 2003, the Italian dairy company Parmalat descended into bankruptcy in an eye-catchingly abrupt manner. A routine bank reconciliation revealed that €3.9bn of cash which Parmalat was supposed to have at Bank of America did not actually exist.

The scam that emerged duly blew apart one of Italy’s best-known entrepreneurial companies, and sent its founder, Calisto Tanzi, to prison for fraud. Dubbed Europe’s Enron, it humiliated two large auditing firms, Deloitte and Grant Thornton, and ended up costing the former $149m in damages. 

Yet it rested on an apparently simple deception: the reconciliation letter on which the auditors were relying had been forged. 

There were shades of Parmalat’s collapse again last week when, nearly two decades later, another fast-growing European entrepreneurial company blew up in strikingly similar circumstances. 

After years of public questions about the reliability of its accounts, primarily from the FT, the German electronic payments giant, Wirecard, was forced to admit to a massive hole in its balance sheet. 

Rattled by the failure of an independent probe by KPMG to verify transactions underpinning “the lion’s share” of its reported profits between 2016 and 2018, and unable to publish its results due to issues eventually raised by its longstanding auditors EY, Wirecard finally capitulated. It announced that purported €1.9bn cash balances at banks in the Philippines probably did “not exist” and parted company with its chief executive Markus Braun. Evidence relied on by EY had been bogus. 

It remains unclear exactly how the crucial confirmation slipped through the cracks. According to one EY partner: “The general view internally is that confirming historic cash balances is auditing 101, and [that] ordinary auditing processes were followed, including third party verification, in which case the fraud was sophisticated in its use of false documents.” 

Others, however, take a less charitable view of such slip-ups, especially when, as with both Wirecard and Parmalat, they were preceded by so many questions about the reliability of the figures. 

“The integrity of the cash account [which records cash and should reconcile to all the other items in the accounts] is totally central to the whole system of double-entry bookkeeping,” says Karthik Ramanna, professor of business and public policy at Oxford’s Blavatnik School of Government. “If there is no integrity to the cash account, then the whole system is just a joke.” 

Shareholder support 

Wirecard’s collapse is the latest in a wave of accounting scandals that has swept through the corporate world, including UK outsourcing group Carillion and Abu Dhabi-based hospital group NMC Health, as well as alleged frauds at the mini-bond firm London Capital & Finance (LCF) and the café chain Patisserie Valerie. 

Many fear a further surge as the Covid-19 lockdown washes away those companies with weakened balance sheets or business models in the coming months. 

Questions about “softball” auditing have dogged many recent high-profile insolvencies. Carillion’s enthusiasm for buying companies with few tangible assets for high prices led it to build up £1.5bn of goodwill on its balance sheet. Despite vast losses at some of those subsidiaries, it had written down the value of just £134m of that goodwill when the whole edifice caved in. 

Similar questions hang over LCF, where close reading of the notes in the last accounts it published show how the estimated fair value of its liabilities far exceeded that of its assets in 2017, making it technically insolvent roughly 18 months before it collapsed taking with it more than £200m of savers’ cash. Yet EY gave the accounts a clean bill of health. 

Such cases have raised concerns about the independence of auditors, and their willingness to challenge the wishes of management at the client, who are often driven by their own desire for self-enrichment or survival. 

“It’s so important if you want to keep the relationship to have a rapport with the finance director,” says a financier who once worked at a Big Four auditing firm. “It is basically sometimes easier to swallow what you are told.” 

It is a problem that has deepened with the adoption of modern accounting standards. Over the past three decades, these have progressively dismantled the traditional system of historical cost accounting with its emphasis on the verifiability of evidence and using prudent judgment, replacing it with one based on the idea that the primary purpose of accounts is to present information that is “useful to users”. 

This process has allowed managers to pull forward anticipated profits and unrealised gains, and write them up as today’s surpluses. Many company bonus schemes depend on the delivery of the “right” accounting numbers. 

In theory, shareholders are supposed to provide a check on the influence of self-interested bosses. They choose the auditors and set the terms of the engagement. But in practice, investors tend not to assert themselves in the relationship. Scandals rarely lead to the ejection of auditors. 

So after UK telecoms group BT announced a £530m writedown in 2017 because of accounting misstatements at its Italian business, the auditors, PwC, were not sanctioned by investors. Far from it, the firm was reappointed with more than 75 per cent support. And when EY came up for re-election at Wirecard in the summer of 2018, despite rumblings about the numbers, it was voted back by more than 99 per cent. 

Tight budgets and timetables 

 It is not only an auditor’s desire for an easy life that can drain audits of that all important culture of challenge. There are practical issues too. Tight budgets and timetables limit the scope for investigation. 

Audit fees in Europe are far below those in the US. Audits of Russell 3000 index companies in the US cost 0.39 per cent of company turnover on average. Those in Europe average just 0.13 per cent, while for German companies it is a feeble 0.09 per cent. 

With fees low, auditing teams are often stretched thin, with only limited support from a partner out of a desire to limit costs and maximise the number of audits done. Audit is traditionally the junior partner in a big accountancy firm, with around four-fifths of the Big Four’s profits coming from the non-audit consultancy side. 

Take the last audit of BHS under the ownership of Philip Green, who sold the failing UK retailer to a little known entrepreneur, Dominic Chappell, in 2015. The chain subsequently collapsed the following year. 

The PwC partner, Steve Denison, recorded only two hours of work auditing the financial statements. The number two, an auditor with just one year’s post-qualification experience, recorded 29.25 hours, and the more junior team members 114.6 hours. Mr Denison was later fined for misconduct and effectively banned by the audit regulator. 

According to Tim Bush, head of governance and financial analysis at the Pensions & Investment Research Consultants, a shareholder advisory group, this reliance on juniors tends to result in “box checking” rather than an investigative approach to audit processes. “Audit teams are less likely to have a feel for the company’s business model,” he says. 

This in turn can open the door to abuse. Scams often hinge on faith in some implausible business activity. Parmalat’s €3.9bn cash pile, for instance, was supposed to have come from selling milk powder to Cuba. But an analysis of the volumes claimed suggested that if the company’s numbers were accurate, each of the island’s inhabitants would have needed to be consuming 60 gallons a year. 

As the author Richard Brooks noted in his book The Bean Counters: “It shouldn’t have been difficult for a half-competent audit firm to spot.” 

No ‘golden age’ 

The academic Prem Sikka rejects the idea that auditing has gone downhill in the past few decades. “Go back into history and you will find there was never a golden age,” he says. 

He argues that most of the weaknesses are of longstanding vintage, and are down to a lack of accountability. “On the audit side, there is no transparency. You have no idea as a reader of accounts how much time the auditors spent on the task and whether that was reasonable,” says the professor of accounting at the University of Sheffield. 

While there are signs that the UK regulator is getting tougher, it is down to shareholders to provide stronger governance, Prof Sikka says. If they won’t do it, the government should consider setting up a state agency to commission audits of firms and set fees. “It wouldn’t have to be everyone. You could just do large companies and banks.” 

Britain has recently been through a comprehensive review of audit, including how it is regulated and competition in the market, plus a review by the businessman Donald Brydon of its purpose. This devoted many pages to establishing it as a distinct new profession and coming up with new statements to include in already groaning company reports. 

Far from creating new tasks, many observers think that audit should reconnect with its original purpose. This is to assure investors that companies’ capital is not being abused by over-optimistic or fraudulent managers. “At their heart, audits are about protecting capital, and thereby ensuring responsible stewardship of capital,” says Natasha Landell-Mills, head of stewardship at the asset manager Sarasin & Partners. 

Yet modern accounting practice has made audits more complicated while watering down the legal requirement to exercise the judgment needed to ensure the numbers are “true and fair”. Despite the endless mushrooming of numbers, it is no easier to know if the capital is really present and can thus justify the payment of dividends and bonuses. 

Michael Izza, chief executive of the Institute of Chartered Accountants in England and Wales says auditors need a “renewed focus on internal controls, going concern and fraud. The vast majority of business failures are not the fault of the auditor, but when audit quality is a contributory factor, the problem generally involves these three fundamental areas.” 

Mr Bush thinks a radical simplification is in order. “Without clarity there is never going to be proper accountability,” he says. “What we have is a recipe for weak auditing, and ever more Wirecards and Parmalats. In the extreme it facilitates Ponzi schemes. Stay on that route and it won’t be long before you come unstuck.”

Auditors and Directors failed Carillion

Nils Pratley in The Guardian

Apart from the junior director who tried to speak against the delusion in Carillion’s boardroom, nobody emerges with credit from the two select committees’ post-mortem on the contracting firm. The other directors, led by chairman Philip Green, chief executive Richard Howson and finance director Richard Adam, were directly responsible for the failure because they were either “negligently ignorant of the rotten culture” or complicit in it. But the entire system of checks and balances failed.

The auditors, KPMG, were useless, as was the audit industry’s passive regulator. The government, in the form of the Crown Representative, was asleep. The Pensions Regulator was feeble. City advisers to Carillion were paid to be supine. Big shareholders were not inquisitive. None of those judgments will surprise those who followed the evidence sessions, but the MPs’ report will count for little unless it forces action from government. Three areas are priorities.

First, reform the auditing industry. The public lost faith in auditors when HBOS and Royal Bank of Scotland collapsed without a squeak of warning from the people signing off the accounts. Now there’s Carillion, where the report accuses KMPG, which had the auditing gig for 19 years, of failing to exercise professional scepticism – the basic requirement of the job.

The MPs’ prescription is not original, but is correct. Get the Competition and Markets Authority to look at two specific proposals: a breakup of the big four auditors or a separation of the auditing arms from their consultancy operations.

Concentration in this market has now reached absurd levels – the big four are auditors to 97% of FTSE 350 companies. Carillion perfectly illustrated the closed shop in action. KMPG approved the accounts, Deloitte advised the board on risk management, and EY was consulted on turnaround plans. That left the field clear for PwC to name its price as adviser to the Official Receiver.Quick guide
All you need to know about CarillionShow

A proper shakeup of the industry would probably mean an increase in the cost of audits, but that will be money well spent if it means more competition and higher standards. “KPMG’s long and complacent tenure auditing Carillion was not an isolated failure,” says the report. “It was symptomatic of a market which works for members of the oligopoly but fails the wider economy.” Spot on.

Second, ministers need to understand the risks they take when they outsource work to companies of Carillion’s size. The failed firm had 450 government contracts and the Crown Representative, looking out for taxpayers’ interests, had no insight into how badly things were going wrong. The huge profit warning in July 2017, which marked the beginning of the end, was a complete shock in Whitehall.

The report is short on specific proposals, other than telling ministers to appreciate that “the cheapest bid is not always the best”. But there are good ideas around, and some have even come from the contractors’ side of fence.

Rupert Soames, the chief executive who led the rescue of Serco to prevent an earlier Carillion-style calamity, has suggested a few: open-book accounting so that the Cabinet Office and National Audit Office have the numbers; bank-style “living wills” so that contracts can be handed back to government without huge costs to the public purse; and a code of conduct that, on the supplier’s side, would involve conservative financing, timely payment of subcontractors, and adequately funded pension schemes.

The government is free to demand all that and more. It just requires the penny to drop that, when you’re buying £200bn of goods and services from the private sector each year, you can change the way business is conducted.

The third priority is pensions, since Carillion dumped an £800m liability on the industry lifeboat. The Pensions Regulator’s threats were hollow and its bluff was called, the report says. The directors were allowed to keep paying a dividend to shareholders that was plainly unaffordable.

It’s now too late for excuses or pleas about insufficient powers. The MPs’ hard judgment is that “a tentative and apologetic approach is ingrained” at the regulator and “the current leadership” may not be equipped for cultural change. That sounds like a call for Lesley Titcomb, the chief executive, to go. It would be personally tough on her, since she arrived in 2015, by which time the worst mistakes on Carillion had been made, but she should take the hint. A pensions regulator needs to be feared.

The overall report is impressive – it drips with anger and is strong on detail. It would be disgrace if it fell between the cracks of Brexit. It is essential that the government makes a point-by-point response – starting with the auditors, who escaped from the scene of the banking catastrophe but whose moment in the spotlight is now.

Awkward questions for Tesco should be answered by its accountants too

Auditors are vital to the financial markets. But when they miss a catastrophe in the offing, they’re not doing their job

• 
• • Aditya Chakrabortty
  • The Guardian, Monday 29 September 2014 20.49 BST

Illustration by Daniel Pudles

So the supermarket that shoved horsemeat in its burgers now admits to sprinkling horse manure on its balance sheet. That quip has been doing the rounds since Tesco confessed last week to exaggerating its profits by £250m, and it strikes at the heart of the scandal. Just as a meat patty is manufactured, so too are a set of accounts. Neither falls from the sky, or gets slung together by a solitary bloke at twilight. They are instead a huge co-production of staff, auxiliaries and quality controllers, and they reflect the culture of the environment in which they are assembled.

Conversely, whoppers as large as the one Tesco has been caught telling won’t suddenly have popped out of the mouths of a mere handful of managers. Profits forecast for the biggest of FTSE 100 retailers will have been chalked up by advisers working to standard company practice, sweated over by executives and signed off at top levels of the company. Yet the result, according to new chief executive, Dave Lewis, is the kind of accounting he hasn’t seen during 27 years in business.

The horsemeat disgrace exposed a systemic dysfunction in capitalism: the abuse of suppliers by all-powerful supermarkets resulting in dinners that families couldn’t trust. Last week’s accounting scandal opens the door on another systemic breakdown: how one of those same giant businesses, struggling to pep up a flagging stock price, produced numbers that the business world couldn’t believe.

For understandable reasons, the press has largely spun this as the latest episode in the downfall of Tesco. Who wouldn’t tell that story? It’s simpler, starker and focuses on a high-street institution – what could be more satisfying than a tale of hubris at one Britain’s last remaining world-leading companies, especially if it allows a moist recollection of former Tesco boss Terry Leahy, one of the country’s dwindling number of business people of international repute.

But then awkward questions arise that force us to pull back the frame. The one that foxes me: where were Tesco’s auditors in all this? PwC is one of the Big Four accountancy firms who between them carry out around 90% of all audits for FTSE 350 companies. The £2.7bn-turnover partnership went over Tesco’s accounts for the 12 months to February this year, and gave the supermarket chain a clean audit in May. Just a few weeks later, on 29 August, Tesco executives issued their now infamous forecast – the one that exaggerated their likely profits by 25%.

You can imagine that in the course of a not-so-balmy summer, one of Europe’s biggest businesses suddenly went off its collective trolley and put out a confected set of figures – which, let me emphasise, were not checked over by its auditors. But consider this: back in May, PwC plainly was not entirely comfortable with the numbers it was signing off for Tesco. It went so far as to note its concern over commercial income – the fees paid by suppliers for Tesco giving their products prominence within their stores, and the income overstated in August by the supermarket chain.

On page 66 of the annual report, the auditors note that “commercial income is material to the income statement and amounts accrued at the year end are judgmental. We focused on this area because of the judgment required in accounting for the commercial income deals and the risk of manipulation of these balances.” In the polite, formulaic world of company reporting, this is a warning klaxon. And yet the auditors then went on to list the measures they’d taken to allay their concerns – and to sign off the numbers.

PwC has been Tesco’s auditor for over 30 years. For that service, Tesco paid PwC £10.4m in the last financial year – plus another £3.6m for other consultancy work. Of the 10 directors on the supermarket’s board (leaving aside the chief executive and the chief financial officer, both of whom are relatively new), two are ex-PwC: Mark Armour, a non-executive director, and Ken Hanna, chair of the company’s own audit committee.

Now imagine yourself as a senior executive at Tesco. The business has never been the same since Leahy left. The slump has dampened consumer spirits, some of the company’s foreign adventures now look ill-judged, and Aldi and Lidl are eyeing up your customers. And your remuneration partly depends on the share price – which is listing, badly. How and when to count commercial income is already one of the greyest of grey areas in accounting. Why wouldn’t you be a bit more “aggressive” in your forecasting?

To be clear, we don’t know that anything like this happened – yet it’s exactly to avoid such suspicions arising that we have auditors. This is why the government demands the vast bulk of limited companies (and hospitals and charities) have their accounts audited.

Just as with credit-rating agencies, auditing is a necessary part of the financial markets – but the auditors are paid by the very companies they are judging. Just as with S&P and Moodys, they form a small but powerful “oligopoly” – what was once the Big Eight shrank to the Big Five and, after the Andersen debacle at Enron, to the Big Four. And just as with the credit-raters, the result is often so unsatisfactory as to be useless.

All those banks that collapsed in the crisis were signed off as perfectly sound by PwC and its fellow auditors. But then, as Jeff Skilling, chief exective of Enron, said in 2004: “Show me one fucking transaction that the accountants and the attorneys didn’t sign off on.”

Nor was that a one-off lapse: in May this year, the regulators at the Financial Reporting Council noted that PwC audits, while generally of “a good standard”, were also too accepting of management fudge. As Prem Sikka, professor of accounting at the University of Essex, argues: “If some used car dealer was engaged in a fraction of the shortcomings, warnings and scams that big accountancy firms have been involved in, he would be put out of business.”

For their part, accountants are often aware of their industry’s shortcomings. For his book Accountants’ Truth: Knowledge and Ethics in the Financial World, Matthew Gill interviewed 20 young accountants at the Big Four firms. He found a bunch of men well aware of the boredom of the audit and of the shortcuts they were forced to make.

Some defended what they did. One told him: “I don’t think there’s anything unprofessional in giving views of facts directed by whoever it should be.” Another described his discomfort at working in his firm’s corporate-finance department and supporting what he described as “immoral” and “borderline corrupt” tax wheezes. But rather than voice his qualms, he simply moved department. Whistleblowing was not for him: “I would have felt I would look slightly ridiculous.”

Read that last sentence and recall that the person who blew the whistle this month on Tesco wasn’t the company’s audit committee or ethics committee – and they don’t appear to be from PwC either. As far as we know, the anonymous whistleblower worked for Tesco’s UK finance director, Carl Rogberg, and their report was at first ignored.

When last week’s scandal broke, Tesco chair Sir Richard Broadbent airily opined: “Things are always unnoticed until they are noticed.” He forgot to mention that that goes double if people are paid to turn a blind eye.

Five tips for George Osborne on banking reform

These simple steps would provide the direction for deeper reform of the banking system

• 
• • Prem Sikka
  • theguardian.com, Tuesday 26 November 2013 18.31 GMT

Public pressure for better banking reform from George Osborne, the chancellor, is growing. Photograph: Chris Ison/PA

Some six years after the banking crash, the UK taxpayer is still providing £977bn of loans and guarantees (pdf) to support the ailing banking sector. The reform process is painfully slow. The banking reform bill currently going through parliament (pdf) has grown from 35 pages to 170 pages, but still does not deal with the flaws that led to the crisis. Public pressure for a tougher approach is growing, with figures including the archbishop of Canterbury demanding firmer government action. The chancellor, George Osborne, should at the very least do the following five things. On their own, they won't necessarily solve the deep-seated crisis in our financial institutions, but they would provide the direction for deeper reforms.

1. Think outside the ringfence

Introduce a statutory separation of retail banking from speculative banking and not just the weak "ringfence" he is proposing. Despite the crash, banks remain addicted to gambling with other people's money. They bet on everything from the movement of interest rates, price of commodities, oil, wheat, foreign exchange and much else through complex financial instruments known as derivatives. Derivatives have been described by investment guru Warren Buffett as "financial weapons of mass destruction". Derivatives brought down Lehman Brothers, Northern Rock, Bear Stearns, MF Global, Countrywide, Merrill Lynch, Wachovia and Washington Mutual, just to mention a few. Yet no lessons have been learned.

The Bank of International Settlements (BIS) shows that the notional/face value of over-the-counter (OTC) derivatives is about $693tn. In addition, derivatives are traded on exchanges; adding up to a whopping $1,200tn. The exact economic exposure of the UK banking system is probably considerably lower, but is not known. The Treasury's response to requests for information is that the information "is not currently available". So what do bank balance sheets show us? The financial statements of Barclays Bank (pdf) show the dangers. Its derivatives assets and liabilities of £469bn and £462bn respectively need not net off and could expose it to anything from £7bn to over £900bn. The UK, with a GDP of £1.5tn is in no position to absorb the losses and the knock-on effects. Even Nobel prize winners in economics have been unable to manage the risks in derivatives.

2. Hold banks responsible for losses

Withdraw limited liability from speculative banking. Merely separating the banking arms is not enough because banks use monies from savers, pension funds and insurance companies to finance their gambling habit. Major losses from their bets will ultimately infect the rest of the economy and affect every household. Therefore, the owners of these vast casinos must be held personally liable for the losses.

3. Make them balance the books

Force banks to address their gross undercapitalisation. Barclays has gross assets of £1,500bn against capital of just £63bn. A decline of just 4.22% in the value of its assets could wipe out its entire capital. HSBC has gross assets of $2,700bn (£1,687bn) compared to capital of $183bn (£114bn). It can barely absorb the decline of 6.75% in its asset value. Capital ratios in these ranges have not been and will not be good enough to cushion losses. No doubt some will say that some assets are less risky than others and banks will get away with modest capital ratios, but none of this saved banks previously. So a healthy capital adequacy ratio of at least 12.5%, and higher, should be aimed for.

4. End fat-cattery

Risk capital should be built by clamping down on executive pay. No executive should receive more than 10 times the minimum wage until the required capital levels are reached.

Despite the taxpayer-funded bailouts excessive executive pay is rife and remains linked to reckless risk-taking. The long-term solution is to empower bank employees, savers and borrowers to vote on executive remuneration. They all have a long-term interest in the wellbeing of banks and can curb reckless risk taking.

5. Crack down on the auditors

Bring in a fundamental overhaul of the auditing of banks. Big accounting firms, acting as auditors of banks, are supposed to be the eyes and ears of financial regulators, but the lure of profit is too strong. Almost every ailing bank received a clean bill of health (pdf)from its auditors who received millions of pounds in auditing and consultancy fees. In some cases, banks collapsed within days of receiving the all-clear. Even worse, in some cases auditors were complicit in dubious practices. It is time to remove the accounting firms from audits in the financial sector. That task should be performed by a specially created body, equivalent to the National Audit Office. Unlike the present situation, the financial regulator should have unhindered access to all data held by the auditors.

The Herbalife saga is practically a made-for-Hollywood script

Herbalife is a diet company that excels at drama. It has Wall Street titans sparring, KPMG resigning and investors confused

• 
• • Heidi Moore
  • guardian.co.uk, Tuesday 9 April 2013 20.45 BST

Bill Ackman (right) traded insults with fellow hedge funder Carl Icahn on television over Herbalife. Photograph: Reuters

There is something about diet company Herbalife that makes very rich men act very strangely. The weight-loss company should be relatively unremarkable. Instead it's been in the center of a dramatic story that should have Hollywood calling.

It has everything – intense, dashing hedge-fund titans embroiled in a public war, allegations of pyramid schemes, billions of dollars riding on on the outcome and now, as of today, a rogue auditor who risked his entire career by allegedly squirreling away inside information to make himself a profit. The Herbalife scandal even features Carl Icahn, one of the 1980s corporate raiders who reportedly inspired the timeless capitalist character of Gordon Gekko. If Wall Street wars got Oscars, Herbalife would be a top contender.

With so much heady money and power surrounding Herbalife, it's no surprise that the wafting scent of greed would envelop one of the people whose virtue should have been above reproach: the company's auditor, the prestigious accounting firm KPMG.

Auditors are not glamorous people. If investment bankers are the popular, fratty jocks of the financial world, and traders are the kids who love to hang out with their Camaros, auditors are more like the bespectacled stars of the math team. They are accountants – precise and cautious by nature – and, as a result, they have all the usual attendant social insecurities that nerds do: they're so happy just to be invited to the party that they may not judge too carefully the underage drinking and drugs that are going on. When auditors get into trouble – as they did with companies like Enron and WorldCom – it's usually because they were too eager to please their clients that they kept quiet when they saw something wrong. They didn't want to lose their place at the party.

So the "rogue auditor" is a rare character to cast. Auditors are often guilty of neglect, or looking the other way; rarely do they do something really bold and reckless like trade on inside information. Yet, apparently prompted by the drama around Herbalife, this is what a partner with the company's auditor, KPMG, did, according to Herbalife.

KPMG fired the rogue auditor on 5 April and told Herbalife about the whole debacle yesterday. This morning, Herbalife's stock was halted for an unusually long time – two hours – as the company tried to decide how to tell investors.

During that time, traders and journalists took to Twitter to speculate on what could possibly be so horrible that it would require the company to completely stop trading its stock for most of the morning.

The answer, it turns out, was pretty bad.

The partner at KPMG was entrusted with combing Herbalife's financial statements for errors. Unfortunately, according to Herbalife's version of the story, he also shared the company's confidential information with someone else, presumably so they could make a profit of their own. That would give him an incentive to mess with the company's results to help his own financial interests. As a result, KPMG's entire opinion on the company is reduced to worthless chaos; the auditor said it had to withdraw its reports on Herbalife for the last three fiscal years.

Herbalife, already embroiled in months of wars between its investors, hastened to assure everyone that the company was still sound. It stressed that KPMG had resigned as its auditor purely because of the possible insider trading and "not for any reason related to Herbalife's financial statements, its accounting practices, the integrity of Herbalife's management or for any other reason".

Herbalife managed to contain the damage: by halting the stock for two hours, it had raised expectations that the news would be far worse. The stock fell only 1% on the news when it finally came out. However, there was still evidence of chaos. In the same statement, Herbalife said that KPMG had said the three years of financial statements could both be "continued to be relied upon" and "should no longer be relied upon".

So that clears things up.

This only adds another twist for the Herbalife saga that's been playing out on the larger Wall Street stage. It was only three months ago that the distinguished Carl Icahn was publicly trading insults on television with Bill Ackman, the silver-haired, baby-faced boy wonder of investing. Ackman has argued that Herbalife is a pyramid scheme and has bet against the company; Icahn took the other side of the bet. Daniel Loeb, who was previously a friend of Ackman's, shocked the investing world by switching allegiances and taking Icahn's side.

There's a lot more information that has yet to come out about the problem with KPMG and Herbalife. That's good if you're in Hollywood. It means there's enough time to run through the casting. What do you think of Alan Alda, Elliott Gould, or Frank Langella to play Carl Icahn? John Slattery to play Bill Ackman? Michael Sheen as Dan Loeb? Philip Seymour Hoffman as the rogue auditor?

Now who's going to call John Grisham and tell him about all this?