Thursday, 9 September 2010

FSA fines Goldman Sachs £17.5 million!

The cheeky bastards! £17.5 million! Why can't those freaks at the FSA go out and earn an honest living like everyone else, instead of poncing off the likes of Goldman Sachs? What are they going to spend all that money on anyway?

Well, even though I ain't working for him no more, Lloyd Blankfein phoned me a little while ago. This is what he had to say (and his language was as appalling as ever, so this is not for the sensitive - update: I've censored Lloyd, this has got to stop): 'Mikey, what the f**k is it with these Limey c*********s? (Er, Lloyd, I'm English, you know?) Oh, sorry, Mike. I didn't mean nothing by it. Cut me some slack, man. I'm angry. I'm upset. £17.5 million! How much dollars is that? (It's a lot of dollars, Lloyd.) What are they going to spend it all on? (That's what I want to know.) FSA! What can you do with people like this? Jesus H. Christ! Jesus H. Christ! What is their freakin' problem?! I'll tell you, Mike, they're miserable because their mothers take it up the f*****g ***! (It's a point of view, Lloyd.) Hey, I want you to come work for me again. Freelance, of course, but I'll pay you more this time. (I can't. Bobby wants me to do something with him. He's going to be the big man at Barclays soon.) The big man? He's a kid, Mike, a f*****g punk. He'll never be a man, big or small. I've never understood the friendship between you two. Are you queer for each other or something? (It ain't like that, Lloyd.) It ain't healthy, Mike. Stick to the ladies. Like that lovely Gillian. She's over here now, you know. Such a lovely lady! I bet you miss her, eh? (Well, even when she was in London, nothing much happened.) Oh, that's a shame. That's why I'm saying, work for me again. You can relocate to New York. (I don't know, Lloyd. You're not an easy man to get on with. Being in New York with you? I don't know.) You need some adventure in your life, some excitement! (I'm on the astral plane practically every night.) The astral plane?! I'm talking New York, man! Out and about. You, me, Viniar, hitting the clubs? Forget about it! There'll be wall-to-wall p***y. You won't know where to look. (Not really my scene, Lloyd.) All right, Mike, have it your way. I guess you won't want to fly over on astral wings, whatever, to FSA headquarters for me, huh? Just take a few of those m****s down for old times' sake? (I can't do it, Lloyd. I'm busy.) All right, Mike, you're busy. I understand. We were good though, weren't we, in the days? (Yeah.) See ya, Mike.'

Oh, I'm feeling a bit sad now. But that's life, ain't it? We've all got to move on. Don't look back!