It's not good, is it? RAB Capital should be making money, not losing it. I blame Stephen Couttie. But that's another story. One I won't tell. I have faith in Charles Kirwan-Taylor. He's RAB Capital’s latest chief executive. He hasn't resigned yet. I'm very impressed. He's been in the job longer than a week. It's impressive, eh?
Yes, it is. Making money isn't easy. I don't need to tell anyone that, least of all you, like we're friends. Sticking to a job when everyone wants you to suffer isn't easy. I don't need to draw anyone a picture. I don't need to plant an image in anyone's mind. That's not my business. But think of a hole in the ground. I'm making it my business. Put money it in. Let's be honest, it's my business. Set fire to the money. You get the idea. It can be your business. You don't need me to hold your hand. You're doing great all by yourself. And I'm still addressing you, like a friend. It's a charmed life you lead. I wish I had a friend like me.
Do you ever get the impression that I'm trying to destroy reality with my words? Maybe I want to replace the financial world with something more to my liking. Like a circus, with clowns. Like a brothel, with whores. Like a sewer, with rats. 'Boy, you're sick!' You don't need to tell me I'm sick. This is my therapy. They're letting me out next month, next year, in another life. The doctor tells me that he is God. I have to believe him. What choice do I have? 'It's all a pack of lies!' Oh, you're clever. I'll give you that. You're not stupid.
That was a fantasy. I merely imagined the things you might say. And I don't have a doctor, and I don't have a god. I'm on my own. It's why I write the way I do. I'm falling, and no one and no thing can catch me. There is no one to catch me. There is no ... thing. Funnily enough, the same applies to you. You're just not aware. I think Charles Kirwan-Taylor is aware. Stephen Couttie was definitely aware. That's why he cracked up. The abyss, my reader(s). The emptiness. And you don't have to fall. You can rise as well. It's all around us. Think of a Sunday afternoon in summer. We'll be there soon. Four o'clock. That sickness. The light. The heat. The aching for something. What will it be, for you? I don't know. But you will not be able to have it. It will be different for each of us. I know what I'll be aching for.
So, RAB Capital lost £20 million last year. Roughly. Pre-tax. I wouldn't get upset about it. That's just me. I know that things could have been far worse. The RAB people are still breathing. Money isn't everything.
Yes, it is. Making money isn't easy. I don't need to tell anyone that, least of all you, like we're friends. Sticking to a job when everyone wants you to suffer isn't easy. I don't need to draw anyone a picture. I don't need to plant an image in anyone's mind. That's not my business. But think of a hole in the ground. I'm making it my business. Put money it in. Let's be honest, it's my business. Set fire to the money. You get the idea. It can be your business. You don't need me to hold your hand. You're doing great all by yourself. And I'm still addressing you, like a friend. It's a charmed life you lead. I wish I had a friend like me.
Do you ever get the impression that I'm trying to destroy reality with my words? Maybe I want to replace the financial world with something more to my liking. Like a circus, with clowns. Like a brothel, with whores. Like a sewer, with rats. 'Boy, you're sick!' You don't need to tell me I'm sick. This is my therapy. They're letting me out next month, next year, in another life. The doctor tells me that he is God. I have to believe him. What choice do I have? 'It's all a pack of lies!' Oh, you're clever. I'll give you that. You're not stupid.
That was a fantasy. I merely imagined the things you might say. And I don't have a doctor, and I don't have a god. I'm on my own. It's why I write the way I do. I'm falling, and no one and no thing can catch me. There is no one to catch me. There is no ... thing. Funnily enough, the same applies to you. You're just not aware. I think Charles Kirwan-Taylor is aware. Stephen Couttie was definitely aware. That's why he cracked up. The abyss, my reader(s). The emptiness. And you don't have to fall. You can rise as well. It's all around us. Think of a Sunday afternoon in summer. We'll be there soon. Four o'clock. That sickness. The light. The heat. The aching for something. What will it be, for you? I don't know. But you will not be able to have it. It will be different for each of us. I know what I'll be aching for.
So, RAB Capital lost £20 million last year. Roughly. Pre-tax. I wouldn't get upset about it. That's just me. I know that things could have been far worse. The RAB people are still breathing. Money isn't everything.
