This has got to stop. The persecution of my dearest friends on this physical earth who are children of the astral plane. Andrew Charles Kerr was a friend of mine. He still is. I have known this man since the days when the fire in a banker’s heart was a mere flicker, a mere spark, of love. It was not fire at all, the fire that bankers had in those days. Just a flicker, a spark. And now we find ourselves in a situation where the fire of money burns so brightly in the City, and on Wall Street, and elsewhere. And the authorities do not approve. So the regulators ban, and they fine. Andrew Charles Kerr has been banned and fined. To the FSA, he is not a fit and proper person. Oh, oh, oh! Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. The FSA has fined him £100,000 for market abuse, from his time at Sucden Limited, when he 'manipulated the market in London International Financial Futures and Options Exchange (LIFFE) traded coffee futures and the related coffee futures options.' But we have all been young. We have all made mistakes. Can't the FSA forgive him? What would Jesus do? More to the point: what would Big Herb do?
Actually, what will I do - now?! What will I do? I know what I should do. Just like Helter Skelter, that vision of last year, the desert madness, I should go to the headquarters of the FSA and ... I don't want to say it, but you know what I'm thinking, don't you, dear reader? You know how sick I can get. But isn't such sickness a sign of greatness? I could be a Napoleon! Raskolnikov never made it. But I could! Who would stop me if I really put my mind to it? Oh, - - - - - would not be able to stop me this time. I have lost all interest in her anyway. She led me astray; took me away from my darling angel, my Gillian. I'll always love Gillian. There will never be anyone else. Never!
Gillian would not stop the insanity, the mayhem. She understands me, you see. She knows I have to express myself. I have to let things go ... into the darkness that Jack Pickles has made for me. Oh, how can I sing of the light, if I do not know the dark? How can I celebrate the good, if I have not been touched by evil?
Actually, what will I do - now?! What will I do? I know what I should do. Just like Helter Skelter, that vision of last year, the desert madness, I should go to the headquarters of the FSA and ... I don't want to say it, but you know what I'm thinking, don't you, dear reader? You know how sick I can get. But isn't such sickness a sign of greatness? I could be a Napoleon! Raskolnikov never made it. But I could! Who would stop me if I really put my mind to it? Oh, - - - - - would not be able to stop me this time. I have lost all interest in her anyway. She led me astray; took me away from my darling angel, my Gillian. I'll always love Gillian. There will never be anyone else. Never!
Gillian would not stop the insanity, the mayhem. She understands me, you see. She knows I have to express myself. I have to let things go ... into the darkness that Jack Pickles has made for me. Oh, how can I sing of the light, if I do not know the dark? How can I celebrate the good, if I have not been touched by evil?
