As stock markets continue to tumble around the world, global recession looms, the banks consider charging pensioners for minding their pathetic stores of money, the nights draw in and Winter Closing Time is almost upon us, there is some good news, at least for shareholders in the much-troubled Guinness Peat Aviation (GPA).
A white knight emerged from the gloom last week to take up a near half-share in the battered aircraft leasing company. (I am not suggesting GPA deals in battered aircraft).
Good old Texas Pacific! Upyaboya, David Bonderman! If shareholders go for the deal, and they would probably be mad not to, they will pick up $1.56 per share, a lot more than the miserable 60 cents which they would stand to gain in a couple of years' time from the creepy international finance house GE Capital.
And yet infinitely less, of course, than what they could have expected had not the mega-thrilling $2 billion GPA flotation been aborted moments before its birth six years ago.
But sunt lacrimae rerum, as Tony Ryan probably said at the time, or had a minion say for him. This deal will net Tony some £10 million. Only a sop compared to the £170-odd million he would have gained on paper if the flotation had succeeded, but still, every little helps.
The Irish papers covered this welcome news in the normal way of financial reporting - sober, steadfast and demure. The British papers took practically no notice at all of it - with the exception of the Times. This took a singularly droll view of the whole affair, but nobody could say the paper neglected the GPA developments: it ran a news story, a commentary piece and a detailed "backgrounder" (as we say in the trade, just like we say "colour piece" for funny story).
The news story gave the facts. The commentary, by the City Editor, got a few digs in. Sample: "Dr Ryan thought he had created something that would fly, but the world's biggest aircraft leasing organisation turned out to be incapable of take-off." Another sample, commenting on the value of $3.5 billion put on the company just before the failed flotation: "The idiocy of Dr Ryan's ambitions and the City houses that fanned them is evident in the value that yesterday's deal puts on the restructured business - just $270m".
Not so nice. But...what can we learn from the whole fiasco? Why did the flotation fail anyway? Principally, it seems, because the Gulf War practically wiped out airline bookings overnight (Americans are particularly prone to travel nerves when bad things happen in `Yoorp", which seems for them to include the Gulf). But Tony Ryan himself is on record as saying: "Timing and sentiment went against us this time."
Whatever about timing, which we were once given to understand was important only for comedians, I thought there was no room in business for sentiment? Now it seems there is - but only on the investor side.
All very confusing. I find it easier to understand the business practices of fashion mogul Tommy Hilfiger, as detailed in the papers the other day. It seems that once sales surpass the oddly precise figure of $48.3million, Tommy pockets $1.50 for every $100 rung up at the tills. Last year he picked up $9.6 million in this way. Simple, and effective.
And ever on the lookout for good management tips, I was also pleased to read advice the other day from 1960s survivor Simon Napier-Bell, who used to look after the interests of the Yardbirds, Marc Bolan and Wham!
So what's management really about, Simon? "Management is a complex thing but it's not friendship. Stars are screwed up but if you do anything to cure that, they might stop being stars."
Thank you (and thanks to interviewer Moira Petty). But Simon, you were surprised to learn that you were supposed to act entirely in your clients' interests? "This was unpalatable as they were frequently unreliable, immature, out of their minds or downright nasty. I decided I could get enjoyment from doing the job well. I'd stop them getting ripped off and robbed. In fact, I'd instigate the ripping-off and robbing of other people on their behalf. That was more or less what good management was all about."
So now we know. Simon retired as a millionaire before he turned 30, and even if he then went bust owing £600,000, he must know something. Right? Right.