Yeah, I'm back, dear fucking reader! You freak! Let's face it, no normal person would be reading this shit. I'm back! These little nervous breakdowns of mine only last a day or two. I just go nuts, man. Negative thoughts in my head. Everything seems pointless. I feel worthless. I hit the bottle. Don't wanna write. Barely got the enthusiasm for breathing. That's how bad it is. But … but … but … then everything is sunshine and roses again. The light returns! And: EVERYTHING IS BEAUTIFUL! I suppose you could say I suffer from bipolar disorder. Could you say that, really? Would you? Maybe you would say it if you were a limp-wristed, right-on, Guardian-reading ponce. I don't know how you groove, man. But fuck that PC shit! I'm a crazy fucker - nothing more, nothing less. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
So, what's that Nicola Horlick babe up to now? Does she want control of Bramdean Alternatives or ain't she all that bothered? It seems she has a problem with this Vincent Tchenguiz character.
Well, Nicola and I go back years. And I've been speaking with her. This is what was said:
'Mikey, you've got to help me. That Vincent is just being so nasty. He's such a horrid, horrid man. Last month, he won a vote to put his own people on to the Bramdean board. And that bastard, he smiled at me. Then I said to Peter Barton, for justice, we must go to Michael Fowke. (Well, Nicola, why have you left it so late, to ask for my help?) Oh, I guess … (You were afraid to be in my debt.) Listen, I know you're the only one who can fix the problem. Put a curse on him, Michael. I'll pay you. (Nicola, Nicola, what have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully? I can't even remember the last time you invited me to your house for a cup of coffee. You found paradise in the City. You had everything money could buy. And there was the FSA. You didn't need a friend like me. But now it's - Michael, put a curse on Vinny. But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me Master.) O Master, please, I need you to do this. I'll be eternally grateful. Master. (Good. Now don't worry. Leave it to me.) Thank you, Master.'
O Master, this is incredible! Are you really going to put a curse on Vinny?
Yes, my child. And I want you to arrange it. I want reliable shamans; shamans that aren't gonna be carried away. We are not satanists, despite of what this fund manager says.