Wednesday, 20 October 2010

Stephanie Flanders or Gillian Tett?

Just been watching the spending review on BBC Two. Stephanie Flanders was on it, with a few other characters, like that bald guy. If this were the sort of financial blog that bores everyone shitless, I would dissect the government's plans. However, as I'm one of the hippest muthas on the planet - way too cool to take an interest in any of the government's nonsense - I think I should focus on Stephanie. She seems quite nice. Excessively posh, I suppose. I won't hold it against her. It's not her fault, is it? She was born that way. (It's hard to judge how posh Gillian is, but she has that lisp - which I find incredibly sexy.) [Did that make any sense? Never mind.] Stephanie once dated Ed Balls and Ed Miliband, you know (not at the same time). That could be a problem. Slightly off-putting, isn't it? I don't think it's something we should dwell on. [Stop dwelling on it!] What on earth did she see in Miliband? The man's a total prat. I suppose she had her reasons. Maybe she was drunk. I'll tell you what I would like to do. Listen. [Read.] I'd like to get her in the desert, with some peyote. That would be a real eye-opener for her. She wouldn't look back. Apparently, she's a keen cyclist. Can't have that though. Not in the desert. She wouldn't need a bicycle in the astral desert, anyway. It's all floating and flying, ain't it? [Isn't it?] Yes, you know. You've been there, in your dreams, and mine.

But this is all fantasy, isn't it? There's no way I would ever be unfaithful to Gillian. I'm just a terrible flirt, that's the problem. And I'm fickle. Let's be honest, I'm a fickle flirt. I'll have to see someone about it. No, it's got to be Gillian all the way. To the very end. And if Stephanie wants to get all upset, so be it! The ironic thing is that Stephanie lives two or three miles away from where I am, and Gillian is in New York right now. But that's just my luck, isn't it? [Ain't it?] I never get the breaks. Of course, Big Herb isn't worried about any of this. [He used to be.] Oh no. He thinks it's a good thing, my ... situation. [I'm being polite, to myself. There are some things I cannot say, to myself.] He says it allows me to devote myself [myself, sick of it] to the mystical children. [You?] But I'm not a fucking monk! [Out, word, out!] has got to change. I can't go on like this! But you don't want to hear about my mental [gone], do you, dear reader? You come here, expecting to be entertained, expecting to hear the latest news about banks and hedge funds and the markets, and all I can do is open my heart to you, let you see the despair, but you never asked for it. You never wanted this! [I can't even ...] It's the old [no]. I have no control. I marvel at other bloggers. Seriously. I know I don't have a kind word for most of them, but at least they are able to focus on business. Give them some credit. At least ...

Oh, I'm broken. I'm as broken as the words in this post. Pray for me.