Monday, 7 November 2016

Nick Rusling, Alan Macdonald, Ian Wiese, and Oliver Bartholomew

Four guys. Just four guys. 'Four guys, boss?' Yes, Voice, four guys. 'So?' Well ... they've all got jobs. 'You mean to say these four guys have all got jobs?!' That's exactly what I'm saying, man. Nick Rusling, Alan Macdonald, Ian Wiese, and Oliver Bartholomew ... all great guys. I take my hat off to them!

Well, in other news - 'Hang on a minute, Mikey! Who are these guys? Seriously.' You mean you want to know more about them, beyond their names? 'Yes.' Okay. It's your funeral. Nick, Alan, Ian, and Ollie have all just been hired by Investec in London. 'Ah, it's all starting to make sense now.' Is it?! Ian and Ollie already worked there! So ... 'Eh?! Well ... all right. What jobs are they doing?' Oh, I don't know, man. Finance jobs, finance work. It's Investec, ain't it?

Finance. Unless they're working in the staff canteen, of course. 'Frying the chips, like?' Yeah. 'Or frying the different fish?' Yes, that's a good one, Voice. I like that. 'Seriously though ... what are they doing?' Jesus H. Christ! Does it matter?! If you really need to know, they're working in the fund finance unit. 'Great! That's all I wanted to know, and all the readers wanted to know. Why couldn't you just say that, boss? It's like getting blood out of a stone with you.' Shut up, Voice! There are more important things going on in the world ...

Like Brexit! 'Oh God. Not Brexit!' The situation is getting worse, reader(s). May the Merciless is in India at the moment. She don't want no more immigration, but they do. 'Oh dear.' How is she going to do a trade deal with them? And what's wrong with trading with the block of European nations on our doorstep? 'And now she's taking the side of the tabloids against the enemies of the people, boss.' I know! It's ridiculous. When was the last time that pictures of judges were plastered all over the front page of a newspaper with the headline Enemies of the people - ? 'Ha! You'll probably have to go back to Germany in the 1930s.' Ha! Bloody hell! No thanks, man.