The business world is making preparations for Jeremy Corbyn’s arrival in Downing Street. Exhibit A was the friendly reception the Labour leader received after his speech to the CBI conference last week. Exhibit B is the unfriendly summoning of legal arguments by companies that fear they could be losers under Labour’s nationalisation policies.

Take John Laing Infrastructure Fund (JLIF), a big investor in schools and hospitals via private finance initiative (PFI) contracts. It has never previously felt the need to update shareholders on “recent political comments around PFI”, but it does now. It wishes to highlight its rock solid, as it sees it, claims to compensation.

The gist: JLIF would expect to get 86% of book value if all its 57 PFI contracts were taken back into public control. There are, it said, “legal contract provisions regarding the compensation to which a project’s equity investors would be entitled”. In other words, don’t think about grabbing these assets on the cheap.

As it happens, Labour’s policy on PFI is as clear as mud. The easy part to understand is that PFI would be abandoned as a way to fund infrastructure investment. Fair enough, the current government’s enthusiasm has also cooled. The trickier bit is what happens to existing contracts. The shadow chancellor, John McDonnell, promised at the party’s conference in September to bring them “back in-house” but the official press notice said this would only happen “if necessary” after a review. There is a big difference between the two approaches.

JLIF’s 86% figure, by the way, equates to £749m, which is a serious sum given that the company is just one of many PFI investors. Yet look at other sectors and numbers become bigger, and legal arguments more dense, especially when the focus turns to debt.

At a water industry conference organised by Moody’s last month, a lawyer from Linklaters pointed out that some of the debt issued by water companies – a colossal £49bn in aggregate – contains clauses that say the principal sums become due immediately in the event of a company’s nationalisation.

And could holders of that debt demand more than face value? So-called “make whole” clauses, it was suggested, were written to cover claims for the market value, which in this case could be greater by £10bn-plus given that big chunks of the borrowings were issued at juicy interest rates before the financial crisis.

Such arguments may or may not be tested one day. But the moral for Labour’s Treasury team seems clear: if nationalisation is a policy priority, then acquire some lawyers – they may be needed, and the companies are already well armed.

General Electric pays price of years of drift

General Electric is a $170bn (£130bn) American corporate titan that has been around for 125 years, so it’s a bit early to write it off as an exercise in the management of decline. All the same, the sense of catching up with years of drift is unmistakable. Three months into the job, new chief executive John Flannery has cut the dividend in half, is promising $20bn of asset sales and says he is looking for “the soul” of the organisation.

The damning implied criticism of his predecessor, the spectacularly-rewarded Jeff Immelt, should be extended to the entire board. Immelt did 16 years in post and delivered a dividend cut of his own, back in 2009, but reinvigoration did not follow. The GE show continued to increasingly sceptical reviews. The latest divi reduction has been flagged by Wall Street for ages.

Flannery plans to cut the number of board members from 18 to 12, which sounds like a worthwhile saving if the slimmer set-up can provide more independent thinking. In the new hair-shirt world, GE executives will also have to live without the fleet of corporate jets.

These all sound like steps towards greater accountability and transparency but they could also could have taken a decade ago. Like many once-great companies, GE seems to have been wedded to the cult of the superstar chief executive and is now paying the price.

Ratcliffe puts Ineos in a bizarre league of its own

Jim Ratcliffe is the man who saw potential in the UK petrochemicals industry when nobody else did. He’s a billionaire running a private company, Ineos, so he can spend the corporate cash as he wishes. All the same, why buy the Swiss football FC Lausanne-Sport? It doesn’t even score points as a vanity purchase. Maybe there is method here that escapes lesser mortals, but, if Ineos were a public company, its shares would falling on this bizarre deal.