Bankruptcy has dented Seán Quinn’s hopes of starting new ventures

IT IS probably not in Seán Quinn’s nature to give up.

In an affidavit he swore for the court in Belfast prior to Christmas, Quinn said he had an office in his native village of Derrylin, Co Fermanagh, from which he dealt with the dizzying amount of litigation he and his family are involved in, and also worked on embryonic ideas for a return to business.

The same hearing was told by Richard Woodhouse, of the Irish Bank Resolution Corporation (IBRC), formerly Anglo Irish Bank, that it had heard that Quinn was using a disused tyre factory in Belturbet, Co Cavan, as a base, and that one business idea being pursued was a new insurance company to be called Q2. The judge chose to not to believe Quinn’s claims about the Derrylin office but the idea that the 65-year-old serial entrepreneur spends time mulling over new business ventures rings true.

Yesterday’s development, on the face of it, puts the kibosh on any such plans. Quinn owes IBRC, and therefore the exchequer, an obscene amount of money – north of €2 billion – and has assets of £50,000, according to the statement of affairs he filed in Belfast. So the chances of his coming out of bankruptcy before the normal, 12-year term, are infinitesimal.

If he had succeeded in his Belfast venture, he probably would have emerged from bankruptcy after just a year.

Now that he is a bankrupt here, his first duty will be to meet up with the official assignee, Chris Lehane. All Quinn’s property, of which there is surprisingly little, now vests with Lehane’s office, which will deal with it for the benefit of Quinn’s creditors.

Quinn will have to produce a new statement of affairs and the fact that he is a bankrupt will be advertised so other creditors can come forward, but the figures involved would need to change drastically for the whole exercise to have any meaning in terms of a financial return for the State.

The only property that does not vest in the official assignee is essentials up to a value of €3,100, or more if the High Court allows.

Quinn told the Belfast court he had the right to a small pension, considered to be about £10,000 (€12,000) per annum. Part or all of this can be seized if the court allows. He can look for a job, but if he gets one some of his salary can be assigned to the benefit of his creditors.

He cannot act as a manager or director of a company though he can trade. However he must inform Lehane’s office if he does so. Likewise, he can travel abroad, but must disclose that he is doing so. And he can’t run for election to the Dáil, or to his local council.

In other words, the main effect of yesterday’s ruling, is that Quinn is grounded.

He lives in a palatial home in Co Cavan, which is owned by his children. His wife Patricia and their five children are fighting IBRC’s claim that they should be issued with a judgment for more than €2 billion arising from loans and associated guarantees. That case is due to begin shortly in the High Court, and is likely to be lengthy and extremely costly.

As part of their claim against the bank, the family have also said the bank does not have the right to seize very valuable properties in such places as Ukraine, Russia and further afield.

The battle over these properties – the last bit of substantial wealth the Quinn family has – is gobbling up legal fees in courts in Dublin, Belfast, Kiev, Moscow, Road Town (the British Virgin Islands), Belize City, Stockholm, Nicosia, and probably other locations.

If the family loses, then on the face of it they will all end up close to destitute. It will be a long fall for a family that once had access to a private plane and helicopter, and where Quinn sent personal bills for payment to the headquarters of the Quinn Group.

In his comments to the media in Belfast last week, and in his short statement issued through a public relations executive yesterday, Quinn has made it clear that instead of remorse, and contrition, his dominant reaction is one of resentment.

The dramatic story of Quinn’s business life encapsulates a number of themes that run through so much of recent Irish business history: privatised profits and publicised losses; reckless risk-taking and a lack of respect for probity; and, after the flood, outrageously high professional fees being paid out of a distressed public purse.