Monday, 9 August 2010

WAY Fund Managers and The Freestyle Growth Fund

Freestyle, freestyle, freestyle, that's the way uh-huh uh-huh I like it, and WAY Fund Managers knows the way, this way, with its Freestyle Growth Fund. It has a teary performance fee. The more investors cry with joy at making so much money, the more they are charged. Money goes around and comes around, and that's the way we like it.

But let's be serious for a moment. How far will this fund grow, and in how many styles? Will we see the fund as a giant red mushroom pushing through the astral levels, from hell to almost heaven? Will we see it expanding like a Vishnu bubble in foamy water? Will the fund explode and cover us with its love? Paul Wilcox, Andrew Stevens, and Vince Hoare better come clean with us. Are they promising too much? What guarantees are they offering?

O Paul Wilcox, chairman, speak! O Master, can I call you Mikey? SPEAK! Mikey, I can promise anything, offer any guarantee, because I am not real. Touch me! Your hand goes through me like a knife through butter. But don't tell the investors! Tell the children! Yes, tell the children, but never tell the investors. They wander in darkness, on this cold earth. Should we not pity them?

O Andrew Stevens, chief operating officer, speak! O Master, can I call you the Space Cowboy? SPEAK! O Space Cowboy, listen to Mr Wilcox. He talks a lot of sense. Did you touch him? Well, touch me too! Sprinkle stardust all over me! I have seen you in astral nights, lost and happy amongst the stars, and I have wondered: What makes him so happy? What is his secret? That's one of the reasons we're launching this Freestyle Growth Fund. We want to be like you. We want to grow! We want to be free! O Master, we want to reach for the stars and land on the moon!

O Vince Hoare, technical director extraordinaire, and just as ambitious as the other two, speak! Lay it on me, baby! O Master, can I call you baby? You can call me Master. SPEAK! O Master, you got it right. You're so fucking perceptive! I am just as ambitious as Paul and Andrew. I want to slip away, out of my body, become a ghost of a man. That's the life! Ask Paul, he'll tell you. But of course, you know already! You're the man, the shaman, the world has been waiting for. Baby!

I'll let him get away with that 'baby'. It was silly to insist that he call me Master, anyway. We're all friends here. Strangers in a strange land, maybe, but we know each other so well, and that's what counts at the end of the day.

Good luck, lads!