Oh, er ... / Nothing! As far as I can tell. Tidjane is from an insurance background. 'Boss, it's all the same, ain't it?' Er, maybe, Voice. I don't know. Well, well ... / All I know is that our Tidjane is going to be the next chief executive of Credit Suisse. So ... he must be doing something right!
Oh, it doesn't matter, man. 'Live and let live!' You don't need to know anything about banking to get on and have a great career. I mean, look at me, dear reader(s). I was just some crazy mystical guy living in a cave with only a blanket to my name. But Big Herb discovered me and convinced me to become a financial shaman. (I wasn't actually sure about it at the time. I was thinking more of becoming a rock and roll shaman like Jim Morrison, which strangely I'm getting back to now. Isn't it funny how life works out? 'Yes.') And the rest was history. I made it in finance. 'Big time!' I started this blog, and I became the world's foremost financial shaman that everyone knows and loves today. 'I certainly love you.' Thanks, man. / Of course, there was that unpleasant business when I had to cut Big Herb's throat in the astral night. 'Nasty!' However, I had no choice! 'It's a jungle on the astral plane, Mikey.' Tell me about it! Yeah, it was him or me.
By the way, dear reader(s), Big Herb wasn't a fan of Tidjane Thiam. Something about his bonus at Prudential ... Who cares?! 'Yeah. Who cares?! No one. It's all water under the bridge, boss.' No it isn't! Fuck that shit, Voice! I'm not listening to Simon and Garfunkel. 'Well ...' Christ! Come on! Mr Simon may be a very talented songwriter, but I find him annoying, you know? 'Yeah, I suppose.' And don't get me started on Mr Garfunkel! Bright eyes? Seriously? Bright eyes?! Do me a favour, son! No, I'm listening to Wu-Tang Clan this morning. Bring da motherfucking ruckus!!! 'Yeah, all right, Mikey. Whatever.'
...
Lunch? Egg sandwich. Luxury egg sandwich, believe it or not. You only live millions of times, so ...
Oh, it doesn't matter, man. 'Live and let live!' You don't need to know anything about banking to get on and have a great career. I mean, look at me, dear reader(s). I was just some crazy mystical guy living in a cave with only a blanket to my name. But Big Herb discovered me and convinced me to become a financial shaman. (I wasn't actually sure about it at the time. I was thinking more of becoming a rock and roll shaman like Jim Morrison, which strangely I'm getting back to now. Isn't it funny how life works out? 'Yes.') And the rest was history. I made it in finance. 'Big time!' I started this blog, and I became the world's foremost financial shaman that everyone knows and loves today. 'I certainly love you.' Thanks, man. / Of course, there was that unpleasant business when I had to cut Big Herb's throat in the astral night. 'Nasty!' However, I had no choice! 'It's a jungle on the astral plane, Mikey.' Tell me about it! Yeah, it was him or me.
By the way, dear reader(s), Big Herb wasn't a fan of Tidjane Thiam. Something about his bonus at Prudential ... Who cares?! 'Yeah. Who cares?! No one. It's all water under the bridge, boss.' No it isn't! Fuck that shit, Voice! I'm not listening to Simon and Garfunkel. 'Well ...' Christ! Come on! Mr Simon may be a very talented songwriter, but I find him annoying, you know? 'Yeah, I suppose.' And don't get me started on Mr Garfunkel! Bright eyes? Seriously? Bright eyes?! Do me a favour, son! No, I'm listening to Wu-Tang Clan this morning. Bring da motherfucking ruckus!!! 'Yeah, all right, Mikey. Whatever.'
...
Lunch? Egg sandwich. Luxury egg sandwich, believe it or not. You only live millions of times, so ...
