Philip Green has retreated to his beach. Marks & Spencer is basking in its victory. And - alas for financial reporters - it's going to be a quiet summer in the City after all.
If you think this was a grubby saga illustrating everything that smells about capitalism, think again. Here are ten reasons to cheer the outcome.
First, the billionaire's siege forced a necessary change in management and thinking at M&S. The discredited old guard has gone; a new broom, Stuart Rose, is firmly in the driving seat. And some of the pottier experiments such as Lifestore are being dumped.
Second, all this has been achieved without Green taking over. M&S stays a public company: tens of millions of small savers, through their pension funds and life policies, will benefit so long as the company prospers.
Third, a clear message has been sent to all public-to-private bidders that listed assets won't necessarily be sold on the cheap. With hindsight, Green grabbed Bhs and Arcadia, the old Burton group, for a song. He wasn't going to be allowed to pull that trick a third time.
Fourth, long-termism (of a sort) won out over short-term gratification. M&S shareholders ultimately opted for the promise of jam tomorrow over the near certainty of Green's cash today.
Fifth, past pension promises to tens of thousands of M&S workers counted for more than the narrow interests of one man. Green wanted to load up M&S with billions of pounds of debt, inevitably adding to the risk that it might go bust with the pension fund still in deficit.
Sixth, good manners won out over Green's trademark blend of hectoring bluster. To the end, he was incapable of good grace, telling the Guardian, whose group chairman, Paul Myners, is also chairman of M&S: "Give your chairman a proper fucking kick in the head."
Seventh - and this is just a personal opinion - M&S's cuddly style of paternalism, both to its own staff and to the communities in which it operates, has a better chance of surviving under Myners and Rose than under Green.
Eighth, a big chunk of the high street remains listed - and therefore obliged to disclose information about itself. Although Green initially planned to keep M&S's listing, there were no guarantees. Information about his private companies - owned through a Channel Islands holding company - is scant.
Ninth, Green's bid tactics backfired and so-called phantom bidders may in future be discouraged. At no point did Green put a firm offer on the table. All his talk was hedged around with conditions. He was committed to nothing.
Finally, it all has to be good for the price of clothing. Had Green triumphed, something like 25 per cent of the rag trade would have been in his control. In high dudgeon, he has now promised that his existing shops will trade their socks off, and threatened "Judgement Day in every high street in the country".
None of this will matter one jot, though, if Myners and Rose fail to get the share price moving higher within, say, 18 months. Then the clamour for their heads will go up and Green may well be back.
If you're looking for the next investment fad, then venture-capital trusts are a prime candidate. These beasts have been around for eight years. In return for tax perks, investors pool their money in vehicles that invest in small, unlisted firms, or tiddlers listed on the junior Alternative Investment Market. The theory is that exciting new job-creating start-ups which would never otherwise get off the ground will be nurtured.
The tax perks have suddenly got much sweeter. Everyone, basic-rate taxpayers included, can claim back 40p from the taxman for every £1 they put into these trusts, and the industry now predicts a tenfold increase in investments.
But how much will go into genuine risk capital? The investment houses designing these trusts are more interested in putting the money into relatively safe, property-backed ventures such as pubs and fitness clubs. How well investors will actually do is also questionable. The trusts - popular at the top of the bull market in 2000 (ouch!) - have been a disaster in the past. The danger is that, encouraged by commission-hungry advisers, investors looking to reduce their tax bills will throw money at any old rubbish. One fears another bout of mis-selling.
A day rarely goes by when some bank isn't trying to sell me a loan. The advertising and junk mail is relentless. No wonder personal debt in Britain will reach the £1 trillion (£1,000,000,000,000) mark some time this summer.
But I used to be confident that the buggers couldn't get at me while I was eating my morning Rice Krispies. No longer. Sainsbury's has taken to pushing its personal loans on its milk cartons.
Surely, all any of us needs over the breakfast table is a reassuring message about calcium levels and a kindly attempt to reunite a runaway teenager with his family. Not weaselly guff about APRs.
