Five things you didn’t know about Lakshmi Mittal, Britain's wealthiest citizen

The steel king had a recent spat with François Hollande.

A recent spat with François Hollande has revealed just how much clout is carried by Britain’s wealthiest individual. After Arnaud Montebourg, French Minister for Industrial Recovery, threatened nationalising ArcelorMittal’s French steel furnaces, its owner Lakshmi Mittal went straight to the Elysée Palace to call a meeting with Hollande. The entrepreneur and politician battled out a deal that, by Monday afternoon, revealed Mittal as the winner: his steel plants will not be nationalised. However, this is not the first time Mittal has thrown his industrial might against politics. Here are five other things you may not have known about Lakshmi Mittal:

  1. The Indian born magnate has clashed once before with a French president. During Jacque Chirac’s tenure, Mittal went through with a hostile takeover of the French company, Arcelor, against the President’s wishes. Allegations of xenophobia caused Chirac to later comment: "In principle, we have absolutely nothing against a non-European taking over a European company."    
  2. Hostility with French politicians is balanced with warm relations to the British. A major Labour Party donor, Mittal was accused in 2002 of buying political power. When a Romanian state steel company was being auctioned off, Tony Blair wrote a letter to the Romanian Government in favour of Mittal’s LNM. The letter, when revealed, caused uproar, especially since LNM was not registered in Britain, but in the Dutch Antilles, exempting it from hefty tax.     
  3. Although he only moved to Britain in the 1990s, Mittal is now our wealthiest citizen. His personal $20.7 billion is larger than the GDP of Equatorial Guinea.
  4. The ArcelorMittal Orbit is named after him. The red tower, designed by Anish Kapoor and dubbed the Hubble Bubble by Boris Johnson, was built with his own steel.
  5. After long negotiations, Mittal was the first person granted a private party in the Palace of Versailles. The occasion: the engagement of his daughter, Vanisha, who then moved in next door at 9A Palace Greens, Kensington Garden.
Lakshmi Mittal. Photograph: Getty Images

Oliver Williams is an analyst at WealthInsight and writes for VRL Financial News

Steve Garry
Show Hide image

The footie is back. Three weeks in and what have we learned so far?

Barcleys, boots and big names... the Prem is back.

Another season, another reason for making whoopee cushions and giving them to Spurs fans to cheer them up during the long winter afternoons ahead. What have we learned so far?

Big names are vital. Just ask the manager of the Man United shop. The arrival of Schneiderlin and Schweinsteiger has done wonders for the sale of repro tops and they’ve run out of letters. Benedict Cumberbatch, please join Carlisle United. They’re desperate for some extra income.

Beards are still in. The whole Prem is bristling with them, the skinniest, weediest player convinced he’s Andrea Pirlo. Even my young friend and neighbour Ed Miliband has grown a beard, according to his holiday snaps. Sign him.

Boots Not always had my best specs on, but here and abroad I detect a new form of bootee creeping in – slightly higher on the ankle, not heavy-plated as in the old days but very light, probably made from the bums of newborn babies.

Barclays Still driving me mad. Now it’s screaming from the perimeter boards that it’s “Championing the true Spirit of the Game”. What the hell does that mean? Thank God this is its last season as proud sponsor of the Prem.

Pitches Some groundsmen have clearly been on the weeds. How else can you explain the Stoke pitch suddenly having concentric circles, while Southampton and Portsmouth have acquired tartan stripes? Go easy on the mowers, chaps. Footballers find it hard enough to pass in straight lines.

Strips Have you seen the Everton third kit top? Like a cheap market-stall T-shirt, but the colour, my dears, the colour is gorgeous – it’s Thames green. Yes, the very same we painted our front door back in the Seventies. The whole street copied, then le toot middle classes everywhere.

Scott Spedding Which international team do you think he plays for? I switched on the telly to find it was rugby, heard his name and thought, goodo, must be Scotland, come on, Scotland. Turned out to be the England-France game. Hmm, must be a member of that famous Cumbrian family, the Speddings from Mirehouse, where Tennyson imagined King Arthur’s Excalibur coming out the lake. Blow me, Scott Spedding turns out to be a Frenchman. Though he only acquired French citizenship last year, having been born and bred in South Africa. What’s in a name, eh?

Footballers are just so last season. Wayne Rooney and Harry Kane can’t score. The really good ones won’t come here – all we get is the crocks, the elderly, the bench-warmers, yet still we look to them to be our saviour. Oh my God, let’s hope we sign Falcao, he’s a genius, will make all the difference, so prayed all the Man United fans. Hold on: Chelsea fans. I’ve forgotten now where he went. They seek him here, they seek him there, is he alive or on the stairs, who feckin’ cares?

John Stones of Everton – brilliant season so far, now he is a genius, the solution to all of Chelsea’s problems, the heir to John Terry, captain of England for decades. Once he gets out of short trousers and learns to tie his own laces . . .

Managers are the real interest. So refreshing to have three young British managers in the Prem – Alex Neil at Norwich (34), Eddie Howe at Bournemouth (37) and that old hand at Swansea, Garry Monk, (36). Young Master Howe looks like a ball boy. Or a tea boy.

Mourinho is, of course, the main attraction. He has given us the best start to any of his seasons on this planet. Can you ever take your eyes off him? That handsome hooded look, that sarcastic sneer, the imperious hand in the air – and in his hair – all those languages, he’s so clearly brilliant, and yet, like many clever people, often lacking in common sense. How could he come down so heavily on Eva Carneiro, his Chelsea doctor? Just because you’re losing? Yes, José has been the best fun so far – plus Chelsea’s poor start. God, please don’t let him fall out with Abramovich. José, we need you.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 27 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Isis and the new barbarism