Or is just plain Jupiter now? I don't know. It'll always be Jupiter Asset Management to me. I'm a traditionalist. It certainly won't be Jupiter Fund Management. Not while I'm alive. It's disgusting what some people think they can get away with. Well, the money is pouring into Jupiter Asset Management, as the title of this post makes quite clear. £333 million (or £397 million) in the first quarter. Yippee! However, £71 million slipped away, into the darkness. Oh dear. Never mind. It can't be helped. Money comes, and it goes. We all know that. We've been around the block a few times. There is no need for tears. We wouldn't cry about it, would we? It's Eddie I'm worried about. We don't want to see Edward Bonham-Carter tearing at his clothes and wailing in the street. Let the money go, Eddie! Focus on the big number. No one cares about the small number. It's karma, fate, and all that.
He's so emotional, our Eddie. Well, he's from an artistic background. His sister is an actress. His uncle was a drummer in a rock band. I understand him. I can relate to him. Everyone knows how very emotional and fucking unstable I am - when I want to be. But if I had £333 million (or £397 million, I'm useless at maths, but I've got two maths O-Levels, surprisingly, none of this GCSE garbage) piling up in one hand, and £71 million slipping through the fingers of another hand, I would say to myself: 'Such is life'. That's exactly the phrase that would leave my mouth. You would even be able to hear it - if you were close enough, hanging on my every word like some sort of horrible, repulsive creep. (I'm not judging you.) Of course, this will never happen. Why? I'm not a fund/asset manager thing/creature, am I? The best I can hope for is £20 million. Yes, £20 million in five years. That will have to do. That's my target, and I'm going to hit it. How much of that will slip away, through fingers into the darkness of the world? A few million. I'm not going to live like a monk. Obviously, I'll be living like a financial shaman. We're a different breed. We love money. All this talk of the King James Bible, ha! You can keep it when my ship comes in.
He's so emotional, our Eddie. Well, he's from an artistic background. His sister is an actress. His uncle was a drummer in a rock band. I understand him. I can relate to him. Everyone knows how very emotional and fucking unstable I am - when I want to be. But if I had £333 million (or £397 million, I'm useless at maths, but I've got two maths O-Levels, surprisingly, none of this GCSE garbage) piling up in one hand, and £71 million slipping through the fingers of another hand, I would say to myself: 'Such is life'. That's exactly the phrase that would leave my mouth. You would even be able to hear it - if you were close enough, hanging on my every word like some sort of horrible, repulsive creep. (I'm not judging you.) Of course, this will never happen. Why? I'm not a fund/asset manager thing/creature, am I? The best I can hope for is £20 million. Yes, £20 million in five years. That will have to do. That's my target, and I'm going to hit it. How much of that will slip away, through fingers into the darkness of the world? A few million. I'm not going to live like a monk. Obviously, I'll be living like a financial shaman. We're a different breed. We love money. All this talk of the King James Bible, ha! You can keep it when my ship comes in.
