from The Telegraph

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Theo Paphitis from the Dragons' Den: 'Pregnant women's brains turn to mush'

Theo Paphitis, the star of Dragons' Den, has unreconstructed views on women in the workplace, and says paternity leave is for wimps, says Celia Walden

... "Making the first million is hard, making the next 100 million is easy," he says. "I didn't have a great childhood and neither did Debbie, my wife, so we both try to give the kids not only the material things we never had but also the hugs and the love. I've made enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life, but I don't get out of bed every morning thinking of the money. Money is just a by-product of success, a score card of how well you've done every year."

Can you ever have too much money? "Of course you can," he says with a look of incredulity. "I've got too much money." And yet there seems to be none of the guilt felt by many others forced to be frugal throughout their childhoods. "Trust me, that sick feeling you get when you've spent too much money? It goes." Even "Mrs P" has lost her sensible attitude to cash, he insists. "That said, she'll sometimes put a T-shirt back in M&S and mutter 'I'm not paying £20 for that.'"

... Economics, the world of business - to Theo it all comes down to one thing. "There is no such thing as business acumen: it's just common sense. You could be a little housewife who left school at 15 and doesn't have a bean to her name, but if you've got commonsense you can run a small business. Business is simple, but people complicate it."

... Does the question of women in the workplace ever feature in the tussle?

"Of course - but all this feminist stuff: are we seriously saying that 50 per cent of all jobs should go to women? Anyone who thinks that needs to go to bed, sleep on it, and in the morning when they wake up, if they still feel the same, go straight back to bed, because they are clearly barking mad."

Warming to his theme, and momentarily disregarding his salad, Paphitis launches into an impassioned description of the high-earning businesswomen running so many of his companies. "They go and get themselves bloody pregnant and I say 'right: for three months before you even give birth, you're going to be useless, your brain will turn to mush.' They always argue that they'll be working until the day before, have the baby, go down to the river, wash it off, give it to the nanny and be back at work the following day, but sure enough, their brains turn to mush, and then after the birth the maternal instincts kick in, they take three months off, get it out of their system and are back to normal."

Amused, I ask what he thinks of paternity leave: "I think it's a bit soppy," he snorts. Then, leaning forward again, he changes the subject, quietly announcing: "Now I've got a big scoop for you. I've set a retirement date."

Go on, I urge.

"It's when I die." He bursts out laughing and I feign the same level of amusement, adding, for good measure, that he doesn't seem like the kind of man who could ever be idle, nor sit and ponder his regrets.

"Regrets?" he shakes his head, stopping suddenly and smiling proudly at the originality of his burgeoning thought: "Do you know what I've always believed? What will be will be."