THAT, says Hackney-born millionaire Peter Cruddas, is the sacking chair. He is standing in his City of London office looking at the leather seat opposite his mahogany desk where the photographer has asked him to sit. He appears worried.

"I'm not sure I wanna go there," he laughs nervously.

Go on. "Oh, all right then," he says. He lowers his limber frame gently and gestures through the glass wall at the vast office outside. "They'll think we've got a new boss. Ha."

Heaven forbid. Staff at CMC, Cruddas's fast-growing internet finance firm, know exactly who is boss, especially since their leader rewarded himself with a £6m bonus this year. He may have moved to Monaco (two years ago), they may not see him quite so much ("you've gotta get this right, Andrew, I'm not here too often"), and rumours of flotation may be in the air, but it's palpable who runs the show. "I don't want people falling at my feet or licking my arse," says Cruddas, who likes a bit of management bluntspeak, "and I don't get stressed by any of the things that normally stress people. I just 'ave to feel I've got control."

And that's exactly what he has got. Fifteen years ago, Cruddas, a former currency trader and commodity broker, walked out of a good job looking for a new direction. Now he heads an £150m, 200-employee outfit that supplies complex financial products to customers in 65 countries.

His firm, started with just £10,000 capital, claims to have been the first to offer foreign- exchange trading across the internet and the first to offer commission-free share trading to private investors online. How did he do it? Hard work, tough decisions and a love of risk, he says. Others point to his trading nous and a willingness to plunge into the internet when rivals were wary, plus a genius for plugging complex financial derivatives in a difficult but highly rewarding marketplace.

But what is CMC? A tech firm? A finance firm? Bit of both, he shrugs. CMC acts as principal and market-maker to clients in foreign exchange, derivatives and financial spread betting. Private investors can shift shares on Deal4free.com. Corporate clients can also use CMC software to establish a trading platform. How does he keep track of what is going on? Haven't got a clue, he jokes, before adding that his computer literacy extends only as far as "finding porno sites".

Really? Nah, not really, he laughs. Tall, bullet-headed, blue-eyed and blue-suited, Cruddas gives a broad smile. Son of a Smithfield meat market worker, his twin brother a London cabbie, he clearly enjoys the banter, describing his extraordinary journey from 15-year-old school leaver to 50-year-old tax exile with abrasive charm. Does he really want to float his company as some insist? "Why should I?" he growls. "When I wanted help [from the City], it wasn't there and I think, well, f*** 'em, I've done it now."

Does he miss living in Britain? "Nah. I think the education system is crap and the crime rate is appalling and the transport is unbelievable and the healthcare is crap, and the weather is crap."

And don't ask him what happened to his old school, Shoreditch Comprehensive. "Think it got burnt down by immigrants." Oops.

"No, don't get me wrong," he says, "I am not anti-immigrant, just anti-sponger. This country has been built up by immigrants, just look at the England football team."

Sorry? "Nah, it's fantastic, and look at my office," he gestures outside the glass, where rows of young people peer into multiple screens. "I have every nationality, every religion out there ..."

Cruddas, you feel, is sometimes too frank for his own good. When he notices, halfway through the interview, that his flies are undone, he asks his communications director, sitting opposite, if she has been under the desk undoing them. "Thought I was in luck there, eh?" he grins. When he is stumped by an awkward question, he tells her to start unbuttoning her blouse. "Distract him," he giggles. You couldn't make it up.