Product Description

Philip Green, owner of, amongst much else, British Home Stores, reached billionaire status faster than anyone else in British history. Today he is worth GBP 3.6 billion and is reckoned to be the country's fourth richest citizen. This is the first biography of a man whose aggressive business tactics and brash lifestyle have transformed the staid image of British retailing, and who is likely to remain in the headlines for as long as his ultimate prize, Marks and Spencer, continues to elude his grasp. A middle-class Jewish boy from North London who left school at fifteen, Green started and failed with four businesses before he made it with his fifth venture, Jean Jeannie, which he sold to Lee Cooper for an enormous profit that set him on the road to fame and fortune. But there were pitfalls on the way; in particular, his involvement with Amber Day, a public company, left him with an abiding dislike for both the City establishment and outside investors. Ever since, he has relied upon a close group of like-minded entrepreneurs, including Tom Hunter the sports shoe millionaire and the Barclay twins, to help fund his buccaneering forays into Britain's High Streets. The authors describe Green's takeover and highly profitable break up of the Sears empire created by one of his business heroes, Charles Clore, and his first audacious attempt to seize control of Marks and Spencer at the end of 1999. Frustrated, in part by what were widely perceived as unfair tactics on the part of M&S, Green then turned his attention to the ailing BHS, for which he paid a mere GBP 200 million and then transformed its fortunes to such an extent that, in 2004, he was able to transfer dividends totalling GBP 400 million to his Monaco tax haven. His appetite unsated, Green then turned his attention to the Arcadia Group, which included brands such as Miss Selfridge, Top Shop and Dorothy Perkins before making another bid for M&S in 2004. Again he was foiled, partly because of what he saw as treachery on the part of his former protege Stuart Rose, the man who was appointed by M&S to see off Green's bid. But there seems little doubt that, given the opportunity, he will be back and that this time the personal grudge between the two men will give the contest an added bitterness.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #11694 in Books
• Published on: 2006-09-08
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 256 pages

Review
"'Philip Green was aggressive, flash and cocky. He was very unpopular.' Former schoolmate 'Philip is without doubt the best dealer retail has seen. But no one in management gets on with him for long.' Business colleague 'M&S have yet to meet their judgement day.' Philip Green, on withdrawing his second bid to take over Marks and Spencer 'I just thought you should know that I tore your f**king article out and put it under the cat's arse where it belongs.' Philip Green to a journalist"

About the Author
Andy Forester is a journalist and television producer who has specialised in making business stories accessible to a general audience. His most recent book, The Man Who Saw the Future, is a biography of William Paterson the founder of the Bank of England. Stewart Lansley, formerly an academic economist, is currently an executive producer in the Current Affairs Department of the BBC. His TV and radio work has been nominated for both EMMY and Sony awards and he has written six books, including Poor Britain and After the Gold Rush.

Excerpted from Top Man: How Philip Green Built His High Street Empire by Andy Forrester, Stewart Lansley. Copyright © 2005. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
It was planned with the precision of a military operation. In January 2002, invitations arrived at the homes of around 200 very select guests. Those lucky enough to be on the list were told to prepare themselves for a long week-end in March. Little else was given away. The venue was, intriguingly, to remain an absolute mystery.

There were some clues, but not many. The guests were to come prepared for formal evening events and warm sunny days by the sea. Curiously, the dress code extended to one specific and highly unusual requirement. Each person should bring flesh-coloured (or failing that plain white) underwear for a fancy dress occasion on the Saturday evening.There was no need to pack costumes. They would be supplied by the organisers.All the guests needed to do was rendezvous early on the morning of 14 March 2002 at Luton Airport.

There was one other critical piece of information. They were going to celebrate the 50th birthday of one of Britain's richest nmen, the retail entrepreneur, Philip Green.

The morning of 14 March was distictly chilly and blustery. At the sirport terminal a procession of upmarket cars, many with personalised number plates and darkened windows, disgorged their cargo of party-goers and trim designer suitcases. There was an undoubted sense of drama about the occasion as the well-dresssed and well-heeled occupants slipped into the terminal building, many sheltering their identities behind dark glasses.

There was glamour,too. One person recognised by curious onlookers was Jilly Johnston, a former 'page 3 girl'. Acording to a report in the Daily Mail the following day: 'You didn't have to be blonde, glamorous, and clad in designer casuals yesterday to win a place on Philip Green's birthday jet. But it certainly helped ... Dozens of ladies answering that description descended upon Luton airport to prove that making a great deal of money can buy you the best "close friends" going.'

None of those gathering in the VIP area that morning, exchanging greetings and effecting introductions, had any idea of what lay ahead of them, but all the appearances were that it was not to be a modest affair. Outside on the airport apron sat a large white jet aeroplane - an Airbus 300. On its tail fin, in two metre high letters, had been painted the logo ‘PG50’. It was testimony to the trust they placed in the Greens that nobody had objected to flying off to an unknown destination, carrying flesh-coloured underwear in their bags. Only one invitee - the film-director turned insurance salesman, Michael Winner â€" is known to have declined the invitation. He stated that it was simply because he hated being a guest.

Although the build-up had all the hallmarks of a Philip-style event, it was in fact being masterminded not by him but by his wife, Tina, who had herself passed her half-century a couple of years before. Philip had been kept very much in the dark on the details. The concept of a lavish and expensive party held in some exotic foreign location had already had a dry run. The year before the entrepreneur Tom Hunter, the richest man in Scotland, and a close friend of Philip’s had celebrated his fortieth birthday in the French Riviera resort of Saint Jean Cap Ferrat, just East of Nice. Tom’s wife Marion had hired a London-based events firm called Banana Split to organise the party - a lavish fancy dress ball built around the theme of Hollywood movies. Two giant ‘Oscar’ statuettes had been shipped in to frame a stage fully wired for lighting and sound. Tom himself, at 40 already prematurely balding, had chosen to come dressed up as Yul Brynner in The King and I while Sir Richard Branson had come along as Darth Vader.

Entertainment had been provided by two of Tom’s favourite musical acts, the American funk group Kool and the Gang, followed even more spectacularly by Tom’s great hero, the blind American superstar and motown legend, Stevie Wonder. The stars - and the large entourage that supports them - had been shipped over from the States especially for the occasion. All of this had, as intended, taken Tom completely by surprise. As Hunter mingled with the dressed-up party-goers, and received their congratulations, he bumped into his family bank manager. He found himself asking just how much this had all cost. The banker replied with a good-natured grin: ‘You don’t want to know’. The bill for the party in fact came in at around £750,000.

The Greens were among the guests, and were much taken by the idea. It seems that the decision to celebrate Philip’s half-century in a similar but even more spectacular way was taken shortly afterwards. Certainly Tina had engaged the same Banana Split team to plan the whole thing and to come up with ideas on how to surprise both the birthday boy and the guests. Banana Split, already known for the scale and ambition of its parties, had pulled out all the stops and come up with a scheme that meant the transport of sets and set-designers, caterers and catering equipment, lighting men and sound riggers, and a mass of paraphernalia, thousands of miles across land and sea.

That the Greens could afford to splash out was not open to question. Philip Green had recently made it into the billionaire camp. Over the previous year his wealth had jumped sixfold from some £200 million to a staggering £1.2 billion, due to his acquisition of British Home Stores and his remarkable success in turning the business aroun. The contract Tina had signed with Banana Split was the biggest the company had ever won, with a budget that eventually was to add up to some £5 million.

Customer Reviews

Comprehensive and inspiring
I have a few books on comics in general, and 'Great British Comics' beats all of them hands down. It is wonderfully written - not scholarly, not dumb, but perfectly readable, intelligent and also very positive about its subject matter, showing no snobbery or bias towards any one particular area. And talking of that, the diversity of genres and styles is quite astounding - British comics are incredibly rich in history and it is fascinating to see the quality of early strips and their development through the years. But they also have a rich future from the look of things, and Paul Gravett is enthusiastically upbeat about a medium that many thought lost along with their distant childhood... "Oh yeah, I remember comics! Do they still make them?". There is a current scene and it's alive and kicking, and there are plenty of examples here. Graphically the book is excellent - there's plenty to look at, and it's not just a gallery of impressive covers as is quite often the case with books of this nature, but actual strip pages - the storytelling itself, which is what comics are. Overall the book is an inspiration.

You'll never look at the High Street the same way again!
Read this book to see how one man can influence the way you shop. This is an inspirational read, and because it is not an "official" biography it describes the rough and the smooth in equal detail. An amazing insight into the way that both the High Street and the City work.

Gentlemen, we have a winner...
Most general books about comics tend to specialize or be skewed towards a certain genre, audience or era - think 'superheroes', 'alternative', '1960s'. It's a rare beast that eschews such temptations and goes all out for the historical sweep, without seeming superficial or conversely dragged down by the weight of facts and figures. Fortunately, comics historian Paul Gravett wears his extensive learning lightly and weaves an extremely readable overview of a dense field, aided by inviting layouts from the talented Peter Stanbury.

So who should buy this book? Just about anyone with an interest in British comics will get something out of it: the melange of visuals from a century and a half of comic strips will draw in the casual browser, while its authoritative blend of comics culture and history will appeal to the comics' cognoscenti.

Put simply, this is the best primer on British comics I've ever read. Put it on your shopping list now.