I shall have company. In the beginning. A few puppets. - Samuel Beckett
The interesting thing about Paul Ogden is that he's actually a real person. However, he behaves like a puppet. And I can't have that, so I have silenced him. I will report what he says. Of course I will. It is only right that I do so. I feel, dear reader, that you need to know everything he truly believes. Well, not everything. But I will not allow him to speak directly to you. And I will not report his exact words. That does not mean I will twist anything he has to say. Oh no. But these real people who behave like puppets have got to be controlled. We don't want chaos. Not here. At least, not today. I'll see about tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day, as you know. As you can imagine.
Anyway, the inProp UK Commercial Property Fund offers a ground-breaking approach to commercial property investment. Or so they say. Who? They. [That's enough, mystic child. I will allow the 'Who?' You sounded almost like the owl.]
Yes, Paul Ogden is one of the infamous 'they' at inProp Capital. He says the fund was designed to be safe and transparent. He says investors want physical property funds to be safe and transparent because many of them were burnt in the crash. The investors, that is ... got ... burnt.
Like it's a bad thing getting burnt when hot mystic love crashes into your head. Some people don't know they're born. And that's a serious problem. They don't know they're alive, these investors. They got burnt, in the crash, in the desert, one night, while they were wandering, outside ... the comfort of their bodies. Then when they awoke, their sheets were stained, with a sand trail on the bedroom floor, and their faces bright red from the fire, yes, and from the blood I rubbed into their cheeks in a fit of passion. You see, I bit my hand. I was so excited. And I rubbed it [MY BLOOD!] into their cheeks. They loved it at the time. They were smiling. But they awoke to a cold world where such glorious insanities are frowned upon. Their partners, their wives, their husbands, oh I don't know, lying next to them, horrified. And pressure was put on them: 'You must never ever ever again drift off in your dreams to the realm of the financial shamans, the dead financiers, and the money gods. You've ruined the bed now. And what is that smell?' And so ... these investors settle for all that is safe and transparent. Yes, that's what they do. Cowards, all! Paul Ogden, wretched puppet, comes to them with his promises, and they fall into his arms. Anything to escape the burning in their dreams. Anything to escape the disapproval of the square, cold world.
Oh, oh, oh! What am I supposed to do? If they won't help themselves, am I supposed to drag them kicking and screaming into a bloody and burning realm of phantasmagorical happenings, that is not safe, is not transparent, but which offers the seeker [any seeker!] the chance to catch a glimpse of the ultimate reality, I mean, the Absolute? No! That is not my responsibility. I will not play nursemaid to these investors!
It will be unleveraged. It will offer monthly liquidity. The InProp fund. It will track total returns. Paul Ogden wants an ungeared and liquid exposure! Oh, I could weep. Bring on the Edgar puppet!
The weight of this sad time we must obey; speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most; we that are young shall never see so much nor live so long.
