Tyger, Tyger, burning bright, in the forests of the night: what immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry? Yeah. Good question. And it's one that deserves an answer. But you won't get any sense out of Mr Raju. Mr Raju - let's call him B - was the chairman and chief executive of Satyam Computer Services in India, but he resigned yesterday after admitting to a $1 billion accounting fraud. Even more disturbing than that, he has been riding a tiger.
I tried to get some sense out of B. This is what he told me: 'Forget about the fraud. That is a minor issue. It's the tiger we should be worried about. It's an astral tiger on the astral plane, and I was only riding it because I thought it would make me rich. (How, exactly? And haven't you got enough money? Never mind.) Jim Morrison used to ride a snake, I prefer a tiger - so sue me! Do you know what I mean? (I dig it, B. Each to their own.) Anyway, I was riding this tiger, but I couldn't get off the damn thing. I thought it was going to eat me. I said to it - that's right, that's right, that's neat, that's neat, I really love your tiger feet. And do you know what? The bastard just laughed at me. Tigers ain't got no respect, man. I learnt that the hard way. Finally, it found out about the fraud, and let me off. I suppose I wasn't good enough any more. But that tiger is still prowling around the astral plane, you know. Someone's going to cop it.'
Okay. B made a bit of sense. I'll have to look into this. We can't have mystic tigers prowling around. And I don't give a fuck what William Blake has got to say on the matter. Poetry is nice - I'm all for it. But business is business.