Friday, 12 September 2014

Emmanuel Hermann and Julie Dean ... confusion will keep them together!

Right. Er ... / Confusion! / Let me explain. I made some notes late last night when I was feeling a bit sleepy because I wanted to avoid the dongle twats this morning. I've just had a look at the internet and managed to get Julie Dean's LinkedIn profile in Portuguese before it cut out. (She's not Portuguese as far as I know, but Emmanuel Hermann is Brazilian.) This Hermann guy is not a munster, he's the boss of a new hedge fund, Leste. He's just left BTG Pactual in Brazil where he was a big noise ... or cheese. He was a proprietary trader and responsible for a desk and some chairs. A caretaker as well? [I really need the Voice to help me with this. Where are you, Voice?!] Julie Dean has just left Schroders. LinkedIn says (er, yeah, in Portuguese) that she was working at Cazenove Capital Management. But she wasn't! 'She was at Schroders, boss.' Yes, Voice. Where the fuck have you been, man?! 'Oh ... the world of spirit.' Well, thank Christ you're here now. I can't get a signal, or I can't hold on to a signal for more than a couple of minutes. Those dongle twats are twats! 'Yeah, obviously.' And I've got fragments of two different stories here that make no sense WHATSOEVER(!). I'm close to giving up, son. 'No!' Maybe I should play my guitar for the rest of the day, eh? 'No, you can't do that, Mikey. You have a responsibility to your readers.' Do I? 'Yes. Where else are they going to go, one of those square websites? These people are the coolest people on the planet, daddy-o. They ain't gonna get their news from some square website, are they?' The voice of sanity! Thank you, Voice.

I'll tell you what, dear reader(s): take this post now - as a sort of down payment, as it were - and I'll get to work on a conceptual (No. 250) which will make sense of EVERYTHING(!). 'Is that a good idea, boss?' It's a brilliant idea, Voice. Financial shit makes more sense to me when I'm all a-ROUND and DIZZY. And if it doesn't make sense, who cares? I'm too out of it to care, and so are my readers.

Laters ...