Tuesday, 14 September 2010

Robert Moffat says he will be haunted for the rest of his life

Oh, I hope not. I hope the ghosts of the dead financiers haven't got it in for poor Mr Moffat. There's no reason why they should have. He did help Ganesh the elephant god, after all. No, Jack Pickles should be the haunted one. And Jack is the one who should be going to prison, not poor Mr Moffat.

Yes, Robert Moffat has been sent to prison for six months and fined $50,000 for his part in the Galleon hedge fund insider trading affair. Mr Moffat is the IBM executive who gave inside information to his lover, Danielle Chiesi. Danielle was a consultant at New Castle Partners at the time. She denies any wrongdoing, as does Raj Rajaratnam, the founder of the Galleon Group. Oh, it's all so confusing, and I'm not going to go and get and go into the ins and outs of it all. Robert and Danielle wouldn't want that. Let's respect their privacy!

It's the ghosts that concern me. Has power gone to their ghostly heads?

[I have known the touch of these ghosts, in the night. A buzz in the ears, that's all it takes, and then they have you. O my children, keep a light on! Burn a candle! Bang a gong! No, scratch that. Don't bang a gong. It will only annoy them. Of course, they wouldn't hurt me, and I enjoy being touched. But it's not for everyone. Some people get scared, real scared. Especially when the teeth sink in. Teeth! Do they have teeth, ghostly teeth?! Oh yes, they have teeth. On your skin. Teeth on your skin. But not mine. I am in a senior position. I am more or less untouchable, even though I enjoy being touched, on occasion, as I have already mentioned. I enjoy being touched. There are one or two female dead financiers. Only one or two. But that's all it takes to get off! But you don't want to know about my private life. Let's respect my privacy, for Christ's sake! I can't tell you everything. If only you knew. It all happens, in the night, you know. But you don't know. Maybe you don't want to know. I wouldn't want to know if I were in your position. If I could do it all again, I'm not sure I would - do it all again, that is. The mysteries can put a terrible strain on you. You have to be strong. Fortunately, I am strong. As strong as a superman on a mountain top, away from the filthy mob! Dressed in rags, and oh so filthy! Well, not in rags. I exaggerate. Dressed in bespoke suits, more like. But still filthy. Money is dirty! Even though we love it. And it stinks! Mystic perfume is the answer! Oh, you may have noticed, yesterday, I didn't write much. Do you know why? It's because I was in the City of London, wandering around in the drizzle, soaking up the atmosphere. Did any of you see me? I could have been walking behind you on London Bridge, or Southwark Bridge. What if I had attacked you from behind, lifted you up with my superman strength, and thrown you into the murky waters of the Thames? I could have finished you! But then if you had survived, what a story for your grandchildren! And that could have been me, staring, staring at you in Liverpool Street Station. Making plans for your future. So don't worry about the ghosts, my children. There are worse things around, made of flesh and bone. Lurking in corners of train stations, and walking over bridges.]