Wednesday, 4 July 2012

And people wonder why I like to live in a world of dreams ...

The financial crisis is just getting worse. I can't sleep I'm so worried. Bob Diamond is worried as well. He has phoned me five times tonight. He's not worried about the morning though. He actually said to me: 'Politicians? I shit 'em.' In a really tough East End voice as well. I reckon they've made a mistake. I'd like to see him take a sock into parliament, with a snooker ball. Anything's possible. He's not a kid any more. He's learnt a lot from me.

I've decided to leave Marcus at Barclays, for the time being. Someone's got to run the place. God knows who will be the next chief executive. Surely, only a lunatic would want the job. I wonder if Gordon Brown is available ...


That's enough finance. Or I'll have nightmares when I finally do get to sleep.

Oh, reader, read my last conceptual, No. 31. It's the best one yet. It's the despair, you see. Times like this, I need to escape.

Yeah, I've got Apollo on - again. There's no harm in it. Reminds me of the old days.

I can't think of anything else to write about. So what? Just pretend I'm writing about something else.

More words ...