Innovation abounded in the Den
last night, with three business ideas that instantly enticed
the fiery ones. That's not to say they all won investment though -
a great pitch can be easily unravelled when the Dragons start
looking for holes to pick at. And even the most promising
businesses can start to implode when the nitty gritty of enterprise
isn't handled correctly... but more on that later.
Innovation abounded in the den last night, with
three business ideas that instantly enticed the fiery ones. Though
that's not to say they all won investment - a great pitch can be
easily unravelled when the Dragons start looking for holes to pick
at. And even the most promising businesses can start to implode
when the nitty gritty of enterprise isn't handled correctly... but
more on that later.
The first debacle of last night's peak-and-trough
episode was the customary total flop. Poor old Diane and Tim had
chucked £50,000 at a series of books featuring cheery fruit and veg
characters, designed to instill the five-a-day mantra into kids. To
their credit, they had sold a fair few copies through Borders
before it went into administration - but the numbers weren't really
there and they weren't really sure how they'd achieve the
three-fold increase in sales they'd forecasted. Oh, and then there
was Peter Jones's deliciously sardonic point that the book he read
didn't actually instruct children to eat healthily at all - instead
it sent out the message that kids' friends wouldn't like them if
they ran out of sweets and that they should run away from home.
Soon criticisms mushroomed and the fruity duo were kicked out the
Den like right lemons.
Next up was Patrick van der Vorst, an ex Sotherby's
department head who'd knocked up a nice-and-easy website that let
your average punter get any item in their home valued within 48
hours just by uploading a photo of it. Valuemystuffnow.com was more
or less Antiques Roadshow 2.0. Patrick has formed a collective of
28 experts (all freelance valuation consultant for the big three
auction houses) who get paid £1.80 per valuation, while
customers pay £4.50 per valuation. A prime idea for the age
of austerity, Theo Paphitis said, with profit margins that sounded
good. But Deborah Meaden was (very rightly) concerned about the
online marketing strategy. Patrick was spending only £4,000 -
£5,000 per month on pay per click advertising and Google AdWords
advertising. He was getting 20,000 unique visitors a month - which
is a pretty impressive figure. But he reckoned he's be able to keep
that online ad spend consistent yet manage to up his monthly
visitors to 100,000 through word of mouth.
This, of course, set off alarm bells in the Den -
because as all investors now know, you need a whopping great amount
to splurge on PPC these days if you want even a sniff of a chance
of being found online. Peter Jones said he would need more like
three of five times the £100,000 investment he was asking for,
while James Caan said the mode was 'unsustainable'.
Fortunately for Patrick, Theo Paphitis and Deborah
Meaden swooped in to save the day, walking out with 40% for
£100,000 - double the amount of equity Patrick had planned to give
away but with the huge added value they can bring to his online
marketing strategy.
The next pitch caused quite a, ahem, stink in the
Den: a cannily-designed extractor fan that drew out odours from
toilet bowls more efficiently than the traditional ceiling
extractor fan. Builders-by-trade Patrick and Tim seemed to have a
fairly thoroughly-thought-out plan, citing the cost-cutting
qualities of their extractor, its neat power-saving qualities and
numerous building regulation standards it had achieved. But they
got pooh-poohed by the Dragons as question-time lingered fatefully
one: James Caan said the market was too small and he would never
make a return; Duncan Bannatyne said in all his 25 years of
building properties and health clubs he had never once received a
complaint about a stinking loo so there really was no need for it;
and Deborah Meaden came down like a barrister on their backsides to
discover the standard they had reached only applied to a very
specific type of commercial toilet, ruling out the much bigger
market they had laid claim to. The ensuing stink ensured five
outs.
Finally, we came to Chris Elsworthy, softly-spoken
product engineer extraordinaire who designed what Peter Jones
called 'one of the best products we've ever seen in the Den'. The
Power8 workbox was a cordless powertool set that converts into
eight different tools, including a hand drill, circular saw and
table saw. It had picked up plenty of attention from DIY fanatics
and industry insiders alike, Theo Paphitis called it 'fabulous',
and all the Dragons seemed, well, totally bowled over by it.
Ah, but nothing in the Den ever runs so smoothly as
it seems. Half-way through questioning, we found out Chris has
become entangled in a horrifically complex company and share
structure spanning five countries, multiple investors, Hong
Kong-based cashflow management and a holding company in the British
Virgin Islands that Chris actually owned no part of. Percentages
and place-names started flying around the Den faster like a jet set
millionaire's convention, and the messy web of Chris's business (or
partly- semi- something- owned business) was enough to deter
Deborah, Theo and James Caan.
But Peter Jones ploughed on, saying Chris was the
'real value' - and craftily offers the full £150,000 Chris asked
for in return for 40% of the holding company, on the condition that
all intellectual property rights for the Power8 (currently all
owned by the Hong Kong company - do keep up) be transferred to the
holding company. Phew.
Then, in an astounding whip of Den audaciousness
unlike any counteroffer we'd ever seen before, Chris replied flatly
and with a good dose of condescension: "That values my company
extremely lowly. What resources will you put in to make that
worthwhile?" A really quite pleasingly flabbergasted Peter jones
stammered something along the lines of, "You need sales and you
need me to get those sales," but Chris wasn't having any of it.
"I'm not prepared to give away 40% of my company," he retorted,
then turned to Duncan Bannatyne. Touche!
Duncan Bannatyne, looking quite impressed, then
offered half the amount for just 15% of the equity, assuming Peter
would come in with the other half. Chris, unflappable as a block of
concrete, said 'that's still undervaluing my company'. And after
some further wrangling as cool as several frozen cucumbers, the
Den-god Chris walked out with £150,000 for 30% of his company
shared by Duncan and Peter, but with their equity shrinking to 20%
as soon as he had repaid the money.
Chris's slick bargaining was quite a surprise, but
he knew he had a fantastic product and the Dragons were falling
over themselves to get a piece of it. So why take investment at
all. The invesntor's final words to Evan summed up an important
lesson thus: "I know I have to give things away to make things
happen, and that's what I'm doing. It's better to have a small
piece of something large than a small piece of nothing."
The first debacle of last night's peak-and-trough episode was
the customary total flop. Poor old Diane and Tim had chucked
£50,000 at a series of books featuring cheery fruit and veg
characters, designed to instill the five-a-day mantra into kids. To
their credit, they had sold a fair few copies through Borders
before it went into administration - but the numbers weren't really
there and they weren't really sure how they'd achieve the
three-fold increase in sales they'd forecasted. Oh, and then there
was Peter Jones's deliciously sardonic point that the book he read
didn't actually instruct children to eat healthily at all - instead
it sent out the message that kids' friends wouldn't like them if
they ran out of sweets and that they should run away from home.
Soon criticisms mushroomed and the fruity duo were kicked out the
Den like right lemons.
Next up was Patrick van der Vorst, an ex Sotherby's department
head who'd knocked up a nice-and-easy website that let your average
punter get any item in their home valued within 48 hours just by
uploading a photo of it. Valuemystuffnow.com was more or less
Antiques Roadshow 2.0. Patrick has formed a collective of 28
experts (all freelance valuation consultant for the big three
auction houses) who get paid £1.80 per valuation, while
customers pay £4.50 per valuation.
A prime idea for the 'age of austerity', Theo Paphitis said,
with profit margins that sounded good. But Deborah Meaden was (very
rightly) concerned about the online marketing strategy. Patrick was
spending only £4,000 - £5,000 per month on pay per click
advertising and Google AdWords advertising. He was getting
20,000 unique visitors a month - which is a pretty impressive
figure. But he reckoned he'd be able to keep that online ad spend
consistent yet manage to up his monthly visitors to 100,000 through
word of mouth.
This, of course, set off alarm bells in the Den - because as all
investors now know, you need a whopping great amount to splurge on
PPC these days if you want even a sniff of a chance of being found
online. Peter Jones said Patrick would need more like three or five
times the £100,000 investment he was asking for, while James Caan
said the mode was 'unsustainable'.
Fortunately for Patrick, Theo Paphitis and Deborah Meaden
swooped in to save the day, walking out with 40% for £100,000 -
double the amount of equity Patrick had planned to give away but
with the huge added value they can bring to his online marketing
strategy.
The next pitch caused quite a, ahem, stink in the Den: a
cannily-designed extractor fan that drew out odours from toilet
bowls more efficiently than the traditional ceiling extractor fan.
Builders-by-trade Patrick and Tim seemed to have a fairly
thoroughly-thought-out plan, citing the cost-cutting qualities of
their extractor, its neat power-saving devices and numerous
building regulation standards it had achieved.
But they got pooh-poohed by the Dragons as question-time
lingered fatefully on: James Caan said the market was too small and
he would never make a return; Duncan Bannatyne said in all his 25
years of building properties and health clubs he had never once
received a complaint about a stinking loo so there really was no
need for it; and Deborah Meaden came down like a barrister on their
backsides to discover the standard they had reached only applied to
a very specific type of commercial toilet, ruling out the much
bigger market they had laid claim to. The ensuing stink ensured
five outs.
Finally, we came to Chris Elsworthy, softly-spoken product
engineer extraordinaire who designed what Peter Jones called 'one
of the best products we've ever seen in the Den'. The Power8
workbox was a cordless powertool set that converts into eight
different tools. It had picked up plenty of attention from DIY
fanatics and industry insiders alike, Theo Paphitis called it
'fabulous', and all the Dragons seemed, well, totally bowled over
by it.
Ah, but nothing in the Den ever runs so smoothly as it seems.
Half-way through questioning, we found out Chris had become
entangled in a horrifically complex company and share structure
spanning five countries, multiple investors, Hong Kong-based
cashflow management and a holding company in the British Virgin
Islands that Chris actually owned no part of. Percentages and
place-names started flying around the Den faster than a jet set
millionaire's convention, and the messy web of Chris's business (or
partly- semi- something- owned business) was enough to deter
Deborah, Theo and James Caan.
But Peter Jones ploughed on, saying Chris was the 'real value' -
and offered the full £150,000 Chris asked for in return for 40% of
the holding company, on the condition that all intellectual
property rights for the Power8 (currently all owned by the Hong
Kong company - do keep up) be transferred to the holding company.
Phew.
Then, in an astounding whip of Den audaciousness unlike any
counteroffer we'd seen before, Chris replied flatly with: "That
values my company extremely lowly. What resources will you put in
to make that worthwhile?" A really quite pleasingly flabbergasted
Peter Jones replied, "You need sales and you need me to get those
sales," but Chris wasn't having any of it. "I'm not prepared to
give away 40% of my company," he retorted, then turned to Duncan
Bannatyne.
Duncan Bannatyne, looking quite impressed, then offered half the
amount for just 15% of the equity, assuming Peter would come in
with the other half. Chris, unflappable as a block of concrete,
said 'that's still undervaluing my company'. And after some further
wrangling by Chris, as cool as several frozen cucumbers, the
Den-god walked out with £150,000 for 30% of his company shared by
Duncan and Peter - but with their equity shrinking to 20% as soon
as he had repaid the money.
Chris's slick bargaining was quite a surprise, but he knew he
had a fantastic product, and the Dragons were falling over
themselves to get a piece of it. So why take investment at all? The
inventor's final words to Evan summed up an important lesson thus:
"I know I have to give things away to make things happen, and
that's what I'm doing. It's better to have a small piece of
something large than a small piece of nothing."