Brace yourselves, you starry-eyed speculators. The news that has sent the City into a frothing tizzy: SpaceX, Elon Musk’s interplanetary vanity project, is now valued at a stomach-churning $1.75 trillion. And UK retail investors, bless their cotton socks, are clamouring to buy shares. As if the stock market weren’t already a glorified casino, now we’re being asked to bet on a company whose primary asset is a man with a flamethrower and a questionable Twitter history.
Let’s get one thing straight: you cannot currently buy shares in SpaceX. It’s private, a club for the über-wealthy who enjoy burning cash on rocket-shaped bonfires. But that hasn’t stopped a pack of plucky Brits, fresh from their WFH desks, from emailing brokers with the fervour of Victorian explorers seeking the Northwest Passage. “Can I buy shares?” they bleat, as if Musk might personally parachute a stock certificate into their garden.
Never mind that the company has a habit of blowing up its own hardware on live television. Never mind that the valuation is based on nothing more than a collective fever dream and a few successful space taxis. The British public, in their infinite wisdom, have decided that this is the next big thing. I half expect to see queues outside spread-betting firms, clutching copies of the Financial Times and shouting “To the moon!” in a tragic parody of financial literacy.
Of course, the more cynical among us might note that this valuation is utterly bonkers. For context, $1.75 trillion is more than the GDP of Australia. It’s enough to buy every pint in London for the next millennium. It’s the kind of number that makes a sensible investor reach for a stiff drink and a lie-down. But we are not sensible. We are British, and we love a punt on something garish and unlikely.
So what’s the alternative? If you’re desperate to throw money at Musk, there are workarounds. You could invest in Tesla, which is already a rollercoaster of insanity. Or you could buy shares in a fund that holds private SpaceX stock, though that’s about as easy as getting a reservation at the Ivy during a royal wedding. Or, and here’s a thought, you could keep your money in a savings account, accruing interest at the dizzying rate of 0.5% and watching your wealth wither like a neglected houseplant.
But no, the dream of being an early SpaceX investor is too tempting. Because deep down, we all want to be part of something grand, something that might just involve a tax-free gain and a photo op with Musk’s latest flame-belching creation. Never mind that the company has yet to turn a profit. Never mind that space travel is famously the preserve of governments and mad millionaires. We want in, damn it!
So go ahead, phone your broker. Ask them, with a trembling voice, “Can I buy shares in SpaceX?” They will laugh, politely, and suggest you try your luck on the cryptocurrency markets. But take heart: if history is any guide, a SpaceX IPO is inevitable. It will be the mother of all IPOs, a frenzy of retail buying that will make the Gamestop saga look like a church fete. And when it happens, the British public will be there, queueing in the rain, ready to buy at any price. Because that is what we do. We queue. And we buy. And we complain about the price.
Until then, content yourselves with a picture of a rocket and a prayer that Musk doesn’t sell off the whole company to fund a Martian harem. The future is coming, and it’s going to cost you a pretty penny.
