[GJM] TRICKS OF THE TRADERS from [www dot ecotort.gn.apc.org]/FACIST BILDERBERGERS

[E. Crockett]

--- Nick St Clare <ecotort at gn.apc.org> wrote:

> 
>   TRICKS OF THE TRADERS
> 
> What's the rarest commodity on the stockmarket?
> Honesty. A former broker 
> exposes the corruption, greed and insider dealing
> endemic in the 
> City          The Guardian, Saturday May 3 2008
> 
>  
> 
> It was a typical day of coke hangovers and
> questionable ethics. Half 
> past 10 in the morning and I was slumped at my desk,
> grey Hermès tie 
> hanging despondently from my neck like a hangman's
> noose. I was 
> struggling to breathe. Steve on the other side of
> the room overruled my 
> pleas for the air conditioning to be switched on -
> another reason to 
> hate him and his crew on the old-boy side of the
> desk.
> 
>         We sat in long, straight rows in the trading
> room, like slaves 
> chained in the hold of a Roman galley. Our chains
> were gilded ones, 
> granted, but they shackled us all the same: from 7
> till 4.30, five days 
> a week, we barely left our desks. There were eight
> screens shared 
> between each pair of traders, the monitors stacked
> on top of one another 
> in a tight semicircle. Hundreds of stocks flashed
> their rise and fall 
> across the screens, with the Reuters newsbar spewing
> out company 
> announcements like a Gatling gun all day. Our eyes
> were trained to 
> follow every flicker. Banks of phone lines were
> available at the push of 
> a button, two handsets per man - one for the right
> hand, one for the 
> left - thoughtfully built of toughened plastic to
> withstand the 
> phone-to-wall smashing that took place whenever a
> deal fell through. 
> This was our world - and the flashing numbers
> scrolling past on the 
> liquid crystal screens could make or break us,
> turning us from heroes to 
> villains and back again in the blink of an eye. My
> boss Tony's rasping 
> voice bored its way relentlessly into my ear from
> the minute I sat down 
> to the minute I bolted at the closing bell. Today
> was no exception, try 
> as I might to ignore him.
> 
>         "Everyone's saying there's a bid for Company
> A," he babbled. 
> Yeah, Tone, but you're like the boy who cried wolf -
> every five minutes 
> he'd get a text, or a call, or even just a vision,
> about this or that 
> company being the subject of a takeover bid. Nine
> times out of 10 it was 
> complete nonsense - but in this game nonsense wins
> prizes. Because if 
> you buy early, and the story reaches enough people,
> the stock's going to 
> fly - truth or no truth - and you've sold yours well
> before the company 
> issues a denial announcement.
> 
>         Hard facts meant little in a world ruled by
> paranoia and fear - 
> paranoia that everyone's trying to do you out of
> your profit, fear that 
> you're going to miss out on even bigger winnings if
> you don't follow the 
> herd. People like Tony acted as both instigator and
> reactor in this game 
> - some days he set the ball rolling when he felt
> like ramping a stock; 
> on others he'd be just one more adding to the circle
> of Chinese whispers 
> that blew round the City like wind through rushes.
> 
>         So, for all I doubted this latest rumour, I
> agreed to keep my 
> eye on the screens, in case anything did happen. We
> worked well like 
> that - he had all the sources, I did the grunt work.
> He'd large it up at 
> Fabric, Hakkasan or wherever the denizens of the
> trading scene hung out, 
> while I, faithful lapdog, got to be his Sets boy by
> day. (Sets is the 
> computerised trading floor used by the London Stock
> Exchange.) If you're 
> quicker than the other 10,000 traders out there, you
> can read an 
> announcement, make up your mind in a flash, and buy
> or sell before the 
> others have even clocked something's going on.
> 
>         That's the way it would go. I'd seen it
> happen. Bang - Company B 
> announces, it's received an approach. Your fingers
> know what they're 
> doing before your eyes have caught up. Buy ...
> 100,000 ... limit, say, 
> £7.65. Got them - now you're off and running.
> 
>         Ten seconds later and the little beauties
> are changing hands at 
> 835, no ... 840, 850 ... 860 now ... you're yelping
> like a puppy and, 
> ignoring everyone around you, selling back the
> 100,000 you've just 
> bought for maybe 862. The brokers erupt like
> Vesuvius. Right there 
> they're sitting on nearly a hundred grand profit.
> 
>         Their hearts are racing. They get the lift
> down, then run out on 
> to the street for a smoke.
> 
>         "Keep it down, keep it down, someone'll
> hear..." And this is the 
> beauty of the operation. With the team leader on
> board level at the 
> firm, yet still a dodgy little bastard at heart, a
> three-man team has 
> the means to pull this type of heist all day, every
> day. The rules say 
> you must specify which client you're dealing for
> before you trade - so, 
> in theory, the Company B winnings would already have
> a home. But for 
> many a broker, the rules are slightly different. You
> trade first, ask 
> questions later. If it all goes pear-shaped, if the
> stock falls instead 
> of rises, there's always a pension fund or
> discretionary account that 
> can take the hit for 50 grand or so. But if, with
> Company B, say, you 
> hit the jackpot, then screw the clients, this one's
> for the boys.
> 
>         Everyone had dummy punters, friends or
> relatives who let you 
> wash any winners through their account. So in the
> case of Company B and 
> a three-man team, this would mean just shy of 100
> grand split three 
> ways: more than £30,000 - less 40% capital gains tax
> - and that would be 
> nearly 20 grand per man.
> 
>         I had a setup with my mate M that we'd go
> 40-60 on each deal - 
> but I had to see it in cash the same day. And, of
> course, I took the 60. 
> His account was entirely governed by me. I had tacit
> approval to move as 
> much stock through it as I liked, so long as he was
> always up at the end 
> of the week. And that's what I did. The compliance
> department (company 
> employees who were answerable to the Financial
> Services Authority [FSA] 
> which was supposed to check that all the deals were
> above board) barely 
> batted an eyelid at his account's stellar
> performance, assuming he was a 
> proper punter who knew the ropes - plus I tossed in
> a few losing trades 
> every now and then to throw them off the scent. We
> needed to maintain 
> only around 20 grand in the account to keep it
> operational. *I traded 
> off margin (that is, we had only a small percentage
> of what we were 
> spending in the account); so long as the trade was
> bought and sold 
> during the same three-day period, no cash would ever
> need to be laid out 
> on the deal.* In this way, I could take six-figure
> positions in his name 
> with ease. Whatever smash and grab I'd pulled off
> would soon be marked 
> down on a dealing ticket with M's name and number at
> the top; I passed 
> it to the boys in the back office who put the trade
> into the system, 
> thus ensuring the cash made its way to its (not so)
> rightful home. That 
> 
=== message truncated ===>
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