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Authors: Simon Jordan
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said let’s go again. We unbelievably had 121 bidding against themselves.
When they upped the offer to £70 million and I still refused to sell, Andersen’s almost went into meltdown. But the way I wanted to sell PPS was indicative of how I ran the business, pushing the envelope on every deal.
My apparent disregard for what 121 were offering made them want it even more. Eventually they got to £88 million and refused to go a penny higher. It was somewhat remarkable, given that they had been bidding against themselves from £45 million onwards.
I eventually phoned Vodafone and told them we wanted £90 million for the business or we would sell it in twenty-four hours. They required less than an hour to say no.
So, on 27 April 2000, I instructed Andersen’s to accept 121’s bid of £88 million. We entered into a period of exclusivity with a timetable of completing in May. This is where the dynamics changed and the fun began.
When Andrew was finally informed what price I had accepted, the silence was palpable. His lawyers demanded to know how we got to this figure. I metaphorically shrugged my shoulders.
121 came in and brought a massive team of accountants and experts to go through all aspects of our business. This was a painful and arduous process. And the balance of power had shifted in the negotiations: since I had accepted their offer, my façade of being reluctant to sell had been destroyed.
I soon discovered that due diligence was Gaelic for get the price down . They wanted to go through the computer system and the stock, two prospects that concerned me, to analyse every financial agreement and document, and interview key staff in the business without my presence. They wanted to understand every commercial deal we had ever done. I didn’t want 121’s people sniffing around behind my back; I wanted to be present at every meeting they held. They tried in vain to circumnavigate me.
But 121 and their due diligence were not my only problem. I had two others that almost broke the deal: Andrew Briggs and David Goodman. Andrew was communicating only through his lawyers and trying to make other demands to indemnify himself against this and that.
And then there was David Goodman. The computer system had been sold as the best, which it was – when it was working! 121 wanted the intellectual property rights, and I believed I held them. But it turned out I was using it under licence. Goodman was a prickly little bugger who had got up most people’s noses. I was probably one of the few people that tolerated him. I demanded the IPR but he wanted big money for them. I couldn’t believe it – I had paid him untold amounts of money and swallowed the £400K in BT Costs because of his software balls-up and now this.
There was also the added complication that he had been diagnosed with a very serious illness; thankfully he was to make a full recovery in time. The treatment he was taking made him even more difficult to deal with, and while I tried to be sympathetic to his plight, at times it proved very difficult. After all, this was a computer system designed to my specifications and he was holding a loaded gun to my head. When he demanded £10 million for the IPR I was consumed with rage. And all this was going on without the knowledge of 121.
The cash flow at PPS was creaking again. No, more to the point, it had reached a critical stage. During my absence, my fellow directors had failed to hold things together and had let the business drop. As PPS balanced on a knife edge of cash flow, a couple of months of bad trading put us under extreme pressure.
Back at Head Office it was one meeting after another. 121’s guys went out to stores and the warehouse without my knowledge, precipitating a massive outburst from me. In a fit of pique I threw their guys off site. John Barton called me to complain. I told him they either coordinated through me, or they could piss off. John Barton reminded me of the size and importance of
When they upped the offer to £70 million and I still refused to sell, Andersen’s almost went into meltdown. But the way I wanted to sell PPS was indicative of how I ran the business, pushing the envelope on every deal.
My apparent disregard for what 121 were offering made them want it even more. Eventually they got to £88 million and refused to go a penny higher. It was somewhat remarkable, given that they had been bidding against themselves from £45 million onwards.
I eventually phoned Vodafone and told them we wanted £90 million for the business or we would sell it in twenty-four hours. They required less than an hour to say no.
So, on 27 April 2000, I instructed Andersen’s to accept 121’s bid of £88 million. We entered into a period of exclusivity with a timetable of completing in May. This is where the dynamics changed and the fun began.
When Andrew was finally informed what price I had accepted, the silence was palpable. His lawyers demanded to know how we got to this figure. I metaphorically shrugged my shoulders.
121 came in and brought a massive team of accountants and experts to go through all aspects of our business. This was a painful and arduous process. And the balance of power had shifted in the negotiations: since I had accepted their offer, my façade of being reluctant to sell had been destroyed.
I soon discovered that due diligence was Gaelic for get the price down . They wanted to go through the computer system and the stock, two prospects that concerned me, to analyse every financial agreement and document, and interview key staff in the business without my presence. They wanted to understand every commercial deal we had ever done. I didn’t want 121’s people sniffing around behind my back; I wanted to be present at every meeting they held. They tried in vain to circumnavigate me.
But 121 and their due diligence were not my only problem. I had two others that almost broke the deal: Andrew Briggs and David Goodman. Andrew was communicating only through his lawyers and trying to make other demands to indemnify himself against this and that.
And then there was David Goodman. The computer system had been sold as the best, which it was – when it was working! 121 wanted the intellectual property rights, and I believed I held them. But it turned out I was using it under licence. Goodman was a prickly little bugger who had got up most people’s noses. I was probably one of the few people that tolerated him. I demanded the IPR but he wanted big money for them. I couldn’t believe it – I had paid him untold amounts of money and swallowed the £400K in BT Costs because of his software balls-up and now this.
There was also the added complication that he had been diagnosed with a very serious illness; thankfully he was to make a full recovery in time. The treatment he was taking made him even more difficult to deal with, and while I tried to be sympathetic to his plight, at times it proved very difficult. After all, this was a computer system designed to my specifications and he was holding a loaded gun to my head. When he demanded £10 million for the IPR I was consumed with rage. And all this was going on without the knowledge of 121.
The cash flow at PPS was creaking again. No, more to the point, it had reached a critical stage. During my absence, my fellow directors had failed to hold things together and had let the business drop. As PPS balanced on a knife edge of cash flow, a couple of months of bad trading put us under extreme pressure.
Back at Head Office it was one meeting after another. 121’s guys went out to stores and the warehouse without my knowledge, precipitating a massive outburst from me. In a fit of pique I threw their guys off site. John Barton called me to complain. I told him they either coordinated through me, or they could piss off. John Barton reminded me of the size and importance of
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