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Angry marchers, protesters camped outside financial buildings and placards equating the bad guys to demons. It’s a bit like 2008 (in fact any year since the crisis began) all over again in Hong Kong. But for once, bankers are not the focus of this opprobrium. Instead, the red devil horns and gleaming fangs are plastered over the face of billionaire Li Ka-shing.
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I’ve spent more time than usual holed up in the Hong Kong Club this week. Tai Tai has been in a foul mood ever since I broke it to her that we would not be making our annual jaunt to St Barts. Times are tough. My overweights to Apple and the gold price have all cost me dearly in recent weeks and difficult choices must be made.
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With Chinese issuers determined to mandate every man and his dog on their bonds, syndicate bankers are going to be in for a lot of long nights. The young whippersnappers that populate Asia’s finest syndicate desks have not stopped moaning to me about the recent deal for China National Petroleum Corp, which finished at around 5am.
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The passing of that great lady Margaret Thatcher (Maggie to those of us who knew her personally) had me in a reflective mood this week.
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India’s finance minister, Palaniappan Chidambaram, joined some rather dodgy company this week, when he became the latest person to bloat the list of human rights beyond those old faithfuls like freedom of speech and freedom of worship — adding the right to borrow. I thought this argument lost support from everyone except Wall Street occupiers and CDO originators several years ago, but it turns out I was wrong.
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Hong Kong’s Rugby Sevens is always a reliable den of shame, full of imported debauchery, junk food and pale bellies protruding from poorly judged costumes. But it is has always held a special appeal to certain groups of people: rugby fans, alcoholics and, of course, urophiles.