Yes, Angus Woolhouse, who was head of global institutional business at Gartmore, has joined the Matrix Group as chief executive officer of its asset management division. Apparently, he managed to escape through a window which one of Gartmore's security team had foolishly left unlocked.
Mr Woolhouse is free, free as a bird! Like an eagle he will soar through the astral sky. I wish him all the best.
But what will happen to Gartmore?
Death in the snow on this cold day. That's how it feels. I'm looking out at the grey sky death. Snowflakes swirling around, pieces of ghost flesh. There is no warmth for them. Well, there's my blood. Blue flesh in a red mouth. Winter insanity chills them to the bone. I suffer with them. I am Jesus for them. The voices are frozen in the cavern of my mind. That's my pain. Speak! O ... O ... O ... Speak! O ... O ... O ... Never mind. It could be worse. It could be broken teeth stuck in a brick wall. Or a block of ice hitting a head, with smoking eyeballs rolling down the road, and a spark that lasts a second or two in the heart. But that's just me. It is worse for them. Oh, there was hope for them! It has gone.
Dirty snow. They will sleep in dirty snow. A hole in the ground where we will find them silent and motionless. Pains for those left behind will go on. Are we surprised? Each word is a broken fingernail. This vision is a pile of broken bones. Gartmore is a cracked skull. There is nothing to look forward to. The smart ones got out. Not for them a bowl of soup in the shelter. They'll be eating caviar. Not for them the failure, the loneliness, the despair, the shadows approaching them. They will find a place in the sun. Those left behind are trapped now. Like loyal fish in a barrel waiting to be shot, but wanting to escape the misery. Oblivion is the only option. They look to me. I am their Jesus. I suffer with them. But I cannot go with them.
Where are they going? A hole in the ground will not be the end of it. The pain will pass. There is hope! I am the shaman who knows. I have not just scratched the surface of reality, like all the others. I go deeper than anyone.
I am the ultimate master of reality! You must come to me if you want the truth. I have wisdom. I have knowledge. Oh, and I have panache. I dance on the edge of the abyss and it ain't just my angel that keeps me out of it - not on a good day. So how will this Gartmare end? This is what I believe: in that wretched hole in the cold ground, those poor Gartmore souls will find salvation. It will take time, but they will discover that which lies behind the burning money. I only wish I was going with them. Alas, my ego is a great hindrance.
