First sale of government stake in Lloyds is a success

But can private investors cash in on the deal?

Just a few days ago the government formally announced the imminent stock market flotation of state-owned British postal stalwart Royal Mail, as discussed by Spear’s last week.

In a move reminiscent of the mass privatisation of the Thatcherite era, this week the sale of another major organisation – albeit only part-owned by the state – has begun. Earlier this morning it was announced that the initial sale of taxpayer-owned shares in Lloyds Banking Group to institutional investors has raised £3.2 billion for the Treasury, representing a small profit (but not after inflation).

However, unlike the case of Royal Mail’s whopping 378-year-long history of complete state ownership, the government has only owned just over a third (38.7 per cent) of Lloyds Banking Group for the past five years, following its £20bn bailout of the failing bank in 2008 as a result of the Lloyds’ disastrous acquisition of Halifax Bank of Scotland.

The government is selling a 6 per cent share of it stake, reducing its ownership of the bank to around 32.7 per cent. While this may appear to be a small chunk of its holding, the Coalition can hope to cash £3.3 bn for the benefit of taxpayers on breaking the deal.

In a statement the Treasury said: "We want to get the best value for the taxpayer, maximise support for the economy and restore them to private ownership. The Government will only conclude a sale if these objectives are met."

Shares in Lloyds closed at 77.36p on Monday, which is well above the price of 61p that Chancellor George Osborne regards as the break-even level. During Lloyds' bailout the government bought shares at an average price of 73.6p.

Since the average market price at the time was 61p, the government booked the difference as a loss and added it to the national debt. BBC business editor Robert Peston says that based on Monday's share price the taxpayer should "more-or-less" get its money back.

The sale of this banking giant, laid low by the credit crunch, has been hailed as the UK’s second biggest share placing ever. It is, according to the Financial Times, not only a milestone in Lloyds’ recovery but also the sign of a momentous turnaround in the UK’s fortunes in the wake of the financial crisis, which brought the banking industry to the brink of collapse in October 2008.

The FT also reports that Lloyds’ shares, which are expected to be sold at 75p, have soared more than 90 per cent in the past 12 months, racing past the government’s 73.6p "in-price" for the first time in three years last month. It came as no surprise, therefore, that the government set the wheels in motion for the reprivatisation process.

And, naturally, investors are keen to muscle in on the action. The Capital markets bankers involved in the transaction reported a swift take-up of Lloyds shares, with one US hedge fund said to have submitted a $1bn order.

"Investors are making a call on the UK," said one banker on the deal. 'This level of demand would not be there if people weren’t confident in the UK’s broader economic recovery.'

The good news is that individual investors could also soon get their hands on some Lloyds shares, since the initial placement is expected to be followed by a second sale – potentially involving retail investors – in the first half of 2014.

Royal Mail’s flotation has created some interesting private investment opportunities through publicly traded shares, so let’s hope we can bank on getting access to some Lloyds stocks, too.

This piece first appeared on Spear's Magazine.

Lloyds TSB. Photograph: Getty Images

This is a story from the team at Spears magazine.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood