Yes, he is. But not yet. He's having a bit of a rest first. You see, he was the chief investment officer at Pictet Asset Management. But he tired of that life. He took a year off. Now Invesco Perpetual wants him as its chief investment officer. He will join in June.
But what has he been doing with his time?
O Master, has Mr Mustoe been lazing around the house, stuffing his face with Jaffa Cakes?
No, he hasn't, you little fuck! Have a bit of respect.
Well, what has he been doing then?
I have been speaking to Mr Mustoe. This is what he told me: 'Mikey, why didn't you tell me about the desert, man? (Is that where you've been?) I'm still there, Mikey. This is a desert voice in your head. I am a desert man. But why didn't you tell me about the desert? (You should have been reading my blog. I've been telling everyone about the desert. Unfortunately, not everyone wants to hear.) Michael, I had to find out for myself. And I'm not some square. If you had told me, I would have listened. I would have been all ears. But I had to find out for myself. (Well, Nick, how did you find out?) I was working at Pictet, you dig? (Yeah.) I was sitting at my desk one day. I was on the phone to a client. Suddenly, out of the blue, as it were, sand began to pour out of my mouth. (Are you serious?) I wouldn't lie to you, Mike. Sand was pouring out of my mouth. I couldn't speak. I put the phone down. I fell out of my chair. I was writhing on the floor. Then I had the vision. (You had the vision?! I presume you're referring to the desert vision. That's great!) Yes. The desert vision. I saw the desert. I saw Big Herb. I saw the ghosts of the dead financiers. I saw you, Michael. (You saw me?) I saw you. I asked myself: "Who is this man? Why is there so much love in his beautiful eyes?" And I saw Gillian Tett. (You saw Gillian?!) Yes. (Listen, Nick, she's a wonderful girl, but I don't think she's ever been in the desert. God knows I've tried to get her out there.) I saw her. She was there. You were together. (Together? Oh, Nick, I love you, man. This had made my day!) It was obviously a vision of future times in the desert. Big Herb, the ghosts, Gillian, you, and me, and Bobby D, and Bobby Hashemi, and Luke Johnson, and John Duffield. We were all loving each other. I don't know if we were dead or alive. Astral or physical. It was like a dream to me. Well, it was a vision. (And all this time sand was pouring out of your mouth as you writhed on the floor of your office.) Yes. That's when I decided. I must leave Pictet Asset Management. I must travel to the physical desert. I must find myself. I must find the love. (So why are you going to Invesco Perpetual now?) It's time. I must return to the reality of the cold earth wanderers. I won't be alone. Neil Woodford is there. (Neil Woodford? Oh, a good man! You'll get on well with him.) I hope so.'
Me and Gillian, eh? What a result!
But what has he been doing with his time?
O Master, has Mr Mustoe been lazing around the house, stuffing his face with Jaffa Cakes?
No, he hasn't, you little fuck! Have a bit of respect.
Well, what has he been doing then?
I have been speaking to Mr Mustoe. This is what he told me: 'Mikey, why didn't you tell me about the desert, man? (Is that where you've been?) I'm still there, Mikey. This is a desert voice in your head. I am a desert man. But why didn't you tell me about the desert? (You should have been reading my blog. I've been telling everyone about the desert. Unfortunately, not everyone wants to hear.) Michael, I had to find out for myself. And I'm not some square. If you had told me, I would have listened. I would have been all ears. But I had to find out for myself. (Well, Nick, how did you find out?) I was working at Pictet, you dig? (Yeah.) I was sitting at my desk one day. I was on the phone to a client. Suddenly, out of the blue, as it were, sand began to pour out of my mouth. (Are you serious?) I wouldn't lie to you, Mike. Sand was pouring out of my mouth. I couldn't speak. I put the phone down. I fell out of my chair. I was writhing on the floor. Then I had the vision. (You had the vision?! I presume you're referring to the desert vision. That's great!) Yes. The desert vision. I saw the desert. I saw Big Herb. I saw the ghosts of the dead financiers. I saw you, Michael. (You saw me?) I saw you. I asked myself: "Who is this man? Why is there so much love in his beautiful eyes?" And I saw Gillian Tett. (You saw Gillian?!) Yes. (Listen, Nick, she's a wonderful girl, but I don't think she's ever been in the desert. God knows I've tried to get her out there.) I saw her. She was there. You were together. (Together? Oh, Nick, I love you, man. This had made my day!) It was obviously a vision of future times in the desert. Big Herb, the ghosts, Gillian, you, and me, and Bobby D, and Bobby Hashemi, and Luke Johnson, and John Duffield. We were all loving each other. I don't know if we were dead or alive. Astral or physical. It was like a dream to me. Well, it was a vision. (And all this time sand was pouring out of your mouth as you writhed on the floor of your office.) Yes. That's when I decided. I must leave Pictet Asset Management. I must travel to the physical desert. I must find myself. I must find the love. (So why are you going to Invesco Perpetual now?) It's time. I must return to the reality of the cold earth wanderers. I won't be alone. Neil Woodford is there. (Neil Woodford? Oh, a good man! You'll get on well with him.) I hope so.'
Me and Gillian, eh? What a result!
