I'm going to get to the bottom of this. I promised you "news", dear reader(s). Well, here's a mystery, man. Tarek Saber! / They reckon he was at Avoca Convertible Bond Partners LLP as a chief executive and founder ... or something. 'Ha! He's been at loads of places, this Tarek, boss. No one has ever seen him though.' That's what I’m worried about, Voice! I mean, there's a picture on a LinkedIn profile, a man with sunglasses and a beard. But it's not our Tarek, if we can call him our Tarek. We can't trust LinkedIn. 'Too many internet degenerates.' Yeah. And they're saying he has more than five hundred connections. 'Ha!' Oh, the latest? 'Lay it on us, baby.' Tarek is head of convertible bond strategies at ING Asset Management. 'Oh God. Are we supposed to believe that?!' I don't believe anything I read online, son. Actually, I don't believe anything ... anywhere. 'Very wise.' / There was a programme on TV last night about quantum mechanics. Apparently, there is no reality. No fucking reality at all! 'But that's a good thing, surely.' Why? 'It ties in with your conceptual shit, Mikey. When we're a-ROUND and DIZZY in one of your posts ... nothing exists, man. You destroy words. You destroy meaning.' Well, yeah. 'And that's why you've got to take Tarek Saber for a spin after lunch.' To get him out of my system! 'Exactly! You'll be doing us all a favour, all the mystic kooks. The whole point of your blog is to record what is going on in the world of finance, or at least what seems to be going on, and then ... destroy it so it can't damage us. We want to get clean, and pure, and free, don't we? Maybe even more than THREE.' Salvation! 'And you're showing us the way, Mikey.' Wow! Thanks for that, Voice.
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This is why I need the Voice, reader(s). Sure, he can be very annoying at times, but he gives me a different point of view, helps me get things clear in my head, you dig?
Lunch? Forget my lunch! Think about No. 275!
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Ah, one more thing: I saw another picture earlier, on a website. A picture of a journalist. 'So?' A journalist with a bow tie. 'Oh dear.' When I see a journalist wearing a bow tie I immediately lose interest in anything they've written. Why? Because it's bound to be utter shite. They're sending out a message with their bow tie: I'm a ponce. I'm clueless. There's nothing to read here. Move on.
Only crooners look good in bow ties. And then only with the full dinner suit, yeah? You understand? (And Tinker in Lovejoy. He looks good.)
...
This is why I need the Voice, reader(s). Sure, he can be very annoying at times, but he gives me a different point of view, helps me get things clear in my head, you dig?
Lunch? Forget my lunch! Think about No. 275!
...
Ah, one more thing: I saw another picture earlier, on a website. A picture of a journalist. 'So?' A journalist with a bow tie. 'Oh dear.' When I see a journalist wearing a bow tie I immediately lose interest in anything they've written. Why? Because it's bound to be utter shite. They're sending out a message with their bow tie: I'm a ponce. I'm clueless. There's nothing to read here. Move on.
Only crooners look good in bow ties. And then only with the full dinner suit, yeah? You understand? (And Tinker in Lovejoy. He looks good.)
