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

E. Crockett echojurist at yahoo.com
Sun May 11 16:52:03 MDT 2008


HAPPY MOTHERS DAY TO ALL

From:  Prof. Ulysses S. Crockett, Jr.
--- "E. Crockett" <echojurist at yahoo.com> wrote:

> 
> --- 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 
> 
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