Yes, imagine, if you want to, and are able to, that the former chief executive of Langbar International, Stuart Pearson, is eating loads of porridge - as I write this - and imagine that it has nothing to do with me - his fate, that is, or was, or will be. ('There's worse to come?!') I wasn't involved! I'll swear on the Bible. Even ... even when I was ... I can't type it ... Jack Pickles, aargh, the world's most demonic financier, I never got involved in this terrible scandal. But it's fascinating, ain't it? The problem, as I see it, and saw it, and as a lot of people see it, and saw it, was that no one knew how Langbar's money existed. There was £370 million that just did not exist. Or maybe it did - in another realm?
Oh, this is true: did you know that the last member of Bonnie and Clyde's Barrow Gang, Blanche Barrow, didn't die until 1988? Amazing! But that has nothing to do with the Langbar SCANDAL. Just as Jack Pickles has nothing do with it. And I have nothing to do with it. But I believe it's still worth writing about - the Langbar SCANDAL - because I'm so very fascinated (aren't we all, shamans and mystical children together?) by money that doesn't seem to exist. I actually think Gillian Tett looks a lot like Faye Dunaway in the film. I'd like to go on the run with her. Outlaws in love! But that's another fantasy[?]. I'm not a criminal. Even Jack Pickles was a fantasy[?]. I'm sure I didn't really commit all those crimes. And Gillian wouldn't shoot a cop. She's far too respectable. But I'd love to rob a bank with her. It's the New Depression, remember? Of course, we would need a young halfwit to drive the car.
Is there any danger of me [my] concentrating on the money that did not exist? All right, let me explain shit for the hard of understanding anything in this ridiculous world: there is no money. (And I ain't talking about some Langbar money. That's chump change.) THERE IS NO MONEY. Do you understand, dear reader o' mine, or do you want me to draw you a picture - a picture of nothing? There has never been any money. When are you going to grow up? Your employers have you working for NOTHING. Every month they put some numbers in your bank account, and you fall for it! It's the oldest trick in the book. It's an illusion. And you're a slave. How do you feel, my friend? I bet you're feeling pretty stupid right now. Do you want to join my gang? I'll set you free, motherfucker. You've got to believe in me. If you ain't gonna believe in me, what are you gonna believe in, the government, the media, the tooth fairy? I won't lie to you. I promise you, I'll always tell the truth. So - are you coming with me, or are you going with them? My derangements may seem like fantasies but they're not. I deal in REALITY. And it doesn't cost you nothing. The news is a fantasy. Politics is a fantasy. I am real. This is real.
Oh, this is true: did you know that the last member of Bonnie and Clyde's Barrow Gang, Blanche Barrow, didn't die until 1988? Amazing! But that has nothing to do with the Langbar SCANDAL. Just as Jack Pickles has nothing do with it. And I have nothing to do with it. But I believe it's still worth writing about - the Langbar SCANDAL - because I'm so very fascinated (aren't we all, shamans and mystical children together?) by money that doesn't seem to exist. I actually think Gillian Tett looks a lot like Faye Dunaway in the film. I'd like to go on the run with her. Outlaws in love! But that's another fantasy[?]. I'm not a criminal. Even Jack Pickles was a fantasy[?]. I'm sure I didn't really commit all those crimes. And Gillian wouldn't shoot a cop. She's far too respectable. But I'd love to rob a bank with her. It's the New Depression, remember? Of course, we would need a young halfwit to drive the car.
Is there any danger of me [my] concentrating on the money that did not exist? All right, let me explain shit for the hard of understanding anything in this ridiculous world: there is no money. (And I ain't talking about some Langbar money. That's chump change.) THERE IS NO MONEY. Do you understand, dear reader o' mine, or do you want me to draw you a picture - a picture of nothing? There has never been any money. When are you going to grow up? Your employers have you working for NOTHING. Every month they put some numbers in your bank account, and you fall for it! It's the oldest trick in the book. It's an illusion. And you're a slave. How do you feel, my friend? I bet you're feeling pretty stupid right now. Do you want to join my gang? I'll set you free, motherfucker. You've got to believe in me. If you ain't gonna believe in me, what are you gonna believe in, the government, the media, the tooth fairy? I won't lie to you. I promise you, I'll always tell the truth. So - are you coming with me, or are you going with them? My derangements may seem like fantasies but they're not. I deal in REALITY. And it doesn't cost you nothing. The news is a fantasy. Politics is a fantasy. I am real. This is real.
