From fiery scourge of capitalism to successful entrepreneur

Interviewing Derek Hatton, indeed having a drink with him, is peppered with interruptions. Degsy, as he is universally known, is umbilically attached to his mobile phone, which goes off every few minutes to reward the nosey with snatches of intriguing conversation. And no sooner does he enter any public place than someone will approach
him as if a long-lost friend.

Even in the palatial surroundings of the Manchester Midland Hotel, where Hatton is holding court, casually dressed and looking remarkably young and healthy for his 60 years, the silence is broken by the loud shout of “Degsy” and a bout of mutual backslapping and smiling before Hatton returns to the interview with a grin and mutters: “Not a clue who that bloke was.”

He has, though, become used to the attention. At one time in the 1980s he was arguably the most famous politician in the country: deputy leader of Liverpool Council, but in reality the country’s leading left-winger. Such was his influence that his group actually came within a whisker of overthrowing Neil Kinnock’s leadership of the Labour Party.

“Of course, we knew the whole thing was a risk,” says Hatton, peering beady-eyed into the mists of the past. “I wished I’d had a tape recorder then. You wouldn’t believe what Kinnock was offering me. If I’d have played the game, I’d probably be Prime Minister by now, but I knew what the risks of the strategy we adopted were. I wasn’t stupid: I knew if I lost I’d be finished in politics.”

He lost – though it is a curious Degsy-skill that in the very act of his defeat he plucked victory from the ashes in the form of one of the most iconic conference walkouts ever. It made him more than famous: it made him a figure, although very minor, in political history. Few of us get to be such a footnote.

It is possible now to imagine that the relaxed man lounging on a sofa and speaking about web development companies and property investment was simply using the opportunity that presented itself to him, through politics, for self-advancement. That he was, to use the word in its nonpejorative sense, a chancer.

Hatton is having none of it: “I still see the schools and the leisure centres we built (in the face of government refusal to pay for them) and see people – even after all these years – who know we made a real difference. I’m proud of what we achieved, I wouldn’t have changed a thing.”

The surprising thing is that despite his millionaire status anyone who walks around Liverpool with Degsy – especially around his beloved Goodison Park – cannot help but be impressed by the sheer scale of public approval that he enjoys, even decades after he left politics. It is like walking around with a particularly friendly Pope.

But the real surprise is in re-reading the first sentence of the above paragraph. Hatton has always dabbled in this and that – he wouldn’t be Degsy otherwise – and has turned a decent living from his celebrity. But now he is a millionaire; he has joined the ranks of those who can be called successful entrepreneurs.

Earlier this year he sold Rippleffect, the web design company he jointly owned with his son Ben (a dead ringer), for almost £6 million to Trinity Mirror. He has also built up a company called Morpheus Investments which seems to be doing rather well flogging property in Cyprus.

Like most businessmen who have let go of a business, he has mixed feelings now the cheque is banked. His son will be staying on with an earn-out, but there is no place for Hatton Snr.

“Oh, I understand why,” he says. “Trinity Mirror will have more suitable people than me. But it does feel like an umbilical cord has been cut. We went through a lot with that business. Major cash flow problems, all those sort of battles, and I still find myself referring to the company as ‘we’.

“Don’t get me wrong. I knew it was the right thing to do and I’m made up for Ben. I’m a very, very proud dad.”

The deal came about when the company was doing a joint presentation with Trinity which became so impressed, in Hatton’s words, at Rippleffect’s potential that it opened talks straight away.

He believes that, unlike the hundreds of other web companies dotted around the UK that have never got beyond the two-man stage, Rippleffect has grown because it has not diverted from its primary business – the design and running of websites.

“We’ve been asked to do loads of things like marketing and stuff like that, but we just wanted to do what we knew we were good at. It has certainly shown me the importance of sticking to your core business.”

His business efforts will now be concentrated on Morpheus Investments, which started by chance during a short break in Cyprus. His eyes, which are the most expressive part of Hatton and usually darting around seeking response, light up at the opportunity to pitch someone.

Investment returns tumble from his mouth and mention of the forthcoming property crash barely halts his flow... “Everyone knows it’s crazy to invest in UK property now... but Cyprus...” He would make an extraordinarily good salesman. A point he happily accepts.

“I’m a people person and what I like about doing business over there is that it’s a relationship thing. In the UK it’s all stuffed shirts and ticking boxes. There you might have a three-hour lunch on the harbour side, but at the end of it there is a deal done.”

The company, which was set up in 2004, now has a development arrangement with Hassapis Plc which has also – to follow the relationship theme – allowed it to develop links with Cypriot Banks and thus fund prospective purchasers. The company acts as its own agent.

Hatton now spends around 11 days a month in Cyprus, which could explain the rather impressive tan. Though that could equally be due to the sunbed at his local gym at which he exercises five mornings a week – getting there at 6.30 to do so.

“They’re a great bunch of lads,” he says and, inevitably, one knows that by the mere act of walking into a room and getting on a exercise bike Degsy has made another dozen “friends”.

It is difficult not to like him, even though some have a slight suspicion that his “friends” are divided into two distinct camps: those who are friends and those who might be useful to him at some later date.

Only Mrs Thatcher was unambiguous in her response to Derek Hatton, as he recalls in one of his numerous anecdotes: “We were sitting on opposite sides of the table with our advisors and arguing furiously, when she suddenly got up, stormed out of the room, stopped, turned round and shouted, ‘Mr Hatton, I’ve lost whatever respect I had for you – not that I had any for you in the first place!’”

It would be intriguing to hear Mrs Thatcher’s thoughts on the fact that a man who was once her most implacable enemy has morphed into to the very thing to which she most wanted people to aspire – an entrepreneur.

In the end, capitalism generally wins.

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