I am so happy for Bob Diamond. As you know, dear reader, Bobby is my best friend in the 'square' world of banking and finance. We're like brothers. I've supported him through thick and thin. I supported him when Lloyd Blankfein wanted to put a contract out on him. I supported him in his battle against the reactionary forces at Barclays - men like John Varley who were (still are) stuck in the past. And from the first days of this blog, Bobby has been behind me all the way. He knows that mystical capitalism is the future. He values financial shamanism. Actually, he is on the verge of becoming a financial shaman. I reckon he'll be a great one.
Well, Bobby phoned me late last night. He could hardly contain his excitement. This is what he told me: 'Mikey, I'm going to be the man! Chief executive, man. Next March, when Varley steps aside for the man of destiny! That's me. I'm the man of destiny. (Yeah, I know it's you, Bobby. Congratulations, man! I knew you could do it.) I couldn't have done it without you, Mike. (Oh, Bobby, come on.) No, Mike, I'm telling you. You've given me the strength to keep going, to fulfil my destiny. You've done so much for me. Who was the one who stepped in when that Goldman goombah wanted to whack me? It was you, Mike. I'll never forget that. Never! And I'll always be grateful. I owe you my life, man. (Bobby, are you going to make changes at Barclays?) Fuckin' A I am! This is our moment. You're involved in this too, Mikey. I'm going to go on a massive recruitment drive. And I want you to help me. You're not on the Goldman payroll any more, are you? (No. I couldn't put up with Blankfein's behaviour. Shouting obscenities down the phone at me at all hours of the day and night, wanting me to kill people, even my best friends, even the president - remember that? No thank you. I mean, I like the guy. Lloyd does have a very sweet side to him. But I can't work for him no more. I don't care how good the money is.) Well, Mikey, I'll be throwing lots of freelance work your way, and the pay will be very good. (Yeah?) Oh yeah. There'll be work for Keith as well. I want to bring a ton of shamans in. (You've got loads already.) Oh, at BarCap, sure. But I'm thinking about the whole bank. Let's drag Barclays into the twenty-first century! And let's make some real money for a change. And then we can set fire to it in the astral desert of our love. (And no ashes!) Goes without saying. No ashes! Oh, I just said it. No, no ashes, man. We're not demons on the lower levels. We cherish money. We respect money! (Fuckin' A, Bobby! Fuckin' A!) One thing: when I am going to become a financial shaman? I've been waiting a long time, Mike. (Bobby, that's just a formality now. Before the end of the year, I promise. We'll go into the desert. Everyone will be there. We'll make a big thing out of it. You ain't got nothing to worry about. Big Herb is well impressed with you. Even the ghosts of the dead financiers have got smiles all over their faces. Our man is going to be the man at Barclays, and everything is beautiful!) I love you, Mikey. (I love you too, Bobby. Not quite in the same way I love Gillian, but you know what I mean. I'm not a bender.) It's a harmless manly love. There's nothing to be ashamed of.'
Yes, yes, yes! Bobby's going to be an amazing chief executive. I just know it. And check this (Bobby, from my Paul Idzik post, May 2008): 'One down, one to go. Barclays will be mine. I can feel it in my water. And then you will see some changes. Boy, will you see some changes. Compulsory meditation sessions for all staff. Crystals strapped to everyone's head. I will bring Keith Busby in to do the soul scans. I don't care how much it costs. I want Keith to check everyone out. And let me tell you, anyone with bad karma, shit chakras or a negative aura will be straight out the fucking door with all their desk junk in a black bin liner. I'm going to be ruthless. I will drag Barclays kicking and screaming and chanting and meditating into the twenty-first century. Watch this space.' Man of destiny or what?!
Well, Bobby phoned me late last night. He could hardly contain his excitement. This is what he told me: 'Mikey, I'm going to be the man! Chief executive, man. Next March, when Varley steps aside for the man of destiny! That's me. I'm the man of destiny. (Yeah, I know it's you, Bobby. Congratulations, man! I knew you could do it.) I couldn't have done it without you, Mike. (Oh, Bobby, come on.) No, Mike, I'm telling you. You've given me the strength to keep going, to fulfil my destiny. You've done so much for me. Who was the one who stepped in when that Goldman goombah wanted to whack me? It was you, Mike. I'll never forget that. Never! And I'll always be grateful. I owe you my life, man. (Bobby, are you going to make changes at Barclays?) Fuckin' A I am! This is our moment. You're involved in this too, Mikey. I'm going to go on a massive recruitment drive. And I want you to help me. You're not on the Goldman payroll any more, are you? (No. I couldn't put up with Blankfein's behaviour. Shouting obscenities down the phone at me at all hours of the day and night, wanting me to kill people, even my best friends, even the president - remember that? No thank you. I mean, I like the guy. Lloyd does have a very sweet side to him. But I can't work for him no more. I don't care how good the money is.) Well, Mikey, I'll be throwing lots of freelance work your way, and the pay will be very good. (Yeah?) Oh yeah. There'll be work for Keith as well. I want to bring a ton of shamans in. (You've got loads already.) Oh, at BarCap, sure. But I'm thinking about the whole bank. Let's drag Barclays into the twenty-first century! And let's make some real money for a change. And then we can set fire to it in the astral desert of our love. (And no ashes!) Goes without saying. No ashes! Oh, I just said it. No, no ashes, man. We're not demons on the lower levels. We cherish money. We respect money! (Fuckin' A, Bobby! Fuckin' A!) One thing: when I am going to become a financial shaman? I've been waiting a long time, Mike. (Bobby, that's just a formality now. Before the end of the year, I promise. We'll go into the desert. Everyone will be there. We'll make a big thing out of it. You ain't got nothing to worry about. Big Herb is well impressed with you. Even the ghosts of the dead financiers have got smiles all over their faces. Our man is going to be the man at Barclays, and everything is beautiful!) I love you, Mikey. (I love you too, Bobby. Not quite in the same way I love Gillian, but you know what I mean. I'm not a bender.) It's a harmless manly love. There's nothing to be ashamed of.'
Yes, yes, yes! Bobby's going to be an amazing chief executive. I just know it. And check this (Bobby, from my Paul Idzik post, May 2008): 'One down, one to go. Barclays will be mine. I can feel it in my water. And then you will see some changes. Boy, will you see some changes. Compulsory meditation sessions for all staff. Crystals strapped to everyone's head. I will bring Keith Busby in to do the soul scans. I don't care how much it costs. I want Keith to check everyone out. And let me tell you, anyone with bad karma, shit chakras or a negative aura will be straight out the fucking door with all their desk junk in a black bin liner. I'm going to be ruthless. I will drag Barclays kicking and screaming and chanting and meditating into the twenty-first century. Watch this space.' Man of destiny or what?!
