Yes, I'm afraid so. Vince Cable may be all emotional and odd (basically confused) in his little socialist head, but Paul Marshall - the founder of Marshall Wace Asset Management - is just as confused in his little capitalist head. It's bad enough that he bankrolls the awful Lib Dems, but read this, from the Telegraph: 'The City needs to show a social conscience and responsibility, especially those seen to benefit most in the past few years. They need to be contributing to society much more actively through charity. Both corporately and institutionally, they need to be giving substantially more.' Shocking! Is he a capitalist at all? What is this nonsense?
Can you imagine Daniel Day-Lewis giving money to charity? Well, I suppose he helped set that church up, with the deranged preacher. But the preacher came to a sticky end, didn't he? Had his head smashed in with a bowling pin, I think. I'll have to check that. [Yes, Daniel did him with the pin. A right mess.] The point is, Daniel Day-Lewis is a proper capitalist. Digging for silver, nearly dying in that mine, crawling through the desert, with his gun, getting his money, hiring some men, looking for oil, absolutely covered in the black shit. That's the life!
If Paul Marshall were a real capitalist, and a real man, he would roam the City at night, with a bowling pin, looking for widows and orphans to bludgeon. Now, you may want to argue that widows and orphans are tucked up in bed, late at night. Fair enough. If that's the case, I suggest to Mr Marshall that he breaks into an orphanage or a widowage. It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel! They'll just be lying there, waiting for the bowling pin to settle their hash. Tough love. That's what they call it, the experts, the psychologists. It's the only language that the unfortunate ones in our society understand. You can't wrap them in cotton wool. The sooner they learn that the world doesn't owe them a living, the better off they'll be. If I were an orphan and Mr Marshall crept into my room one night, I would try and squeeze something from the experience. Not literally. But I'm sure it would make me take a good look at myself. Make me buck my ideas up a bit.
I doubt he'll take my advice, dear reader. Like many successful hedge fund managers, Paul Marshall is stuck in his ways. You can lead a horse to the desert, but you can't make it burn. And I'm not even leading him to the desert, am I? He can stay in the City! No skin off my nose. But for the love of Christ and all that is holy, he should forget all these absurd ideas about social conscience and responsibility, and giving money to charity. Start off down that road and God knows where we will end up. If we wanted to live in Cuba or North Korea, we'd book our tickets, wouldn't we?
Shame on you, Paul.
Can you imagine Daniel Day-Lewis giving money to charity? Well, I suppose he helped set that church up, with the deranged preacher. But the preacher came to a sticky end, didn't he? Had his head smashed in with a bowling pin, I think. I'll have to check that. [Yes, Daniel did him with the pin. A right mess.] The point is, Daniel Day-Lewis is a proper capitalist. Digging for silver, nearly dying in that mine, crawling through the desert, with his gun, getting his money, hiring some men, looking for oil, absolutely covered in the black shit. That's the life!
If Paul Marshall were a real capitalist, and a real man, he would roam the City at night, with a bowling pin, looking for widows and orphans to bludgeon. Now, you may want to argue that widows and orphans are tucked up in bed, late at night. Fair enough. If that's the case, I suggest to Mr Marshall that he breaks into an orphanage or a widowage. It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel! They'll just be lying there, waiting for the bowling pin to settle their hash. Tough love. That's what they call it, the experts, the psychologists. It's the only language that the unfortunate ones in our society understand. You can't wrap them in cotton wool. The sooner they learn that the world doesn't owe them a living, the better off they'll be. If I were an orphan and Mr Marshall crept into my room one night, I would try and squeeze something from the experience. Not literally. But I'm sure it would make me take a good look at myself. Make me buck my ideas up a bit.
I doubt he'll take my advice, dear reader. Like many successful hedge fund managers, Paul Marshall is stuck in his ways. You can lead a horse to the desert, but you can't make it burn. And I'm not even leading him to the desert, am I? He can stay in the City! No skin off my nose. But for the love of Christ and all that is holy, he should forget all these absurd ideas about social conscience and responsibility, and giving money to charity. Start off down that road and God knows where we will end up. If we wanted to live in Cuba or North Korea, we'd book our tickets, wouldn't we?
Shame on you, Paul.
