Monday, 12 October 2009

Simon Todd and Michael Nickson will be working with Crispin Odey!

What?! Yeah, I couldn't believe it myself, when Ruth told me this morning. Ruth? Yeah, you know, Ruth. Oh, Ruth! That Ruth! But she told everyone, man. Yeah, she did. But, anyway, Simon Todd and Michael Nickson are not going to set up on their own. What a shock! They are going to be managing the Odey Global Allegra fund at Odey Asset Management, which will be launched next month - the fund, that is. The new fund will be launched, you mean? That's exactly what I mean.

BUT HERE IS THE DISTURBING BIT: that tight bastard Crispin ain't gonna give them no money to play with!

O Master, what the fuck?! Is this guy for real?

Well, okay, my child, he's going to give them a little bit of money, just a little bit. But not a lot. He won't be giving them a lot of money. And that will be a crying shame because Simon and Michael need a lot of money.

O Master, how will they burn without it, without a lot of money?

Exactly. How will they burn?

I think we should bring Dylan Thomas in at this point: FROM POLES OF SKULL AND TOE THE WINDY BLOOD.


Well, that was a fucking mistake, wasn't it?

O Master, I think you should speak to Simon Todd. You'll probably get more sense out of him.

O Simon Todd, I am calling you. Speak to me! Speak to my readers, man! Simon?

Try Michael Nickson.

O Michael, Michael Nickson, are you there? Michael?

He's not there. He's not anywhere. He doesn't exist!

Of course he exists! Don't be so ridiculous. How on earth would he be able to outperform benchmarks and shit like that if he didn't even exist?

O Master, Simon is the one who outperforms benchmarks, to the best of my knowledge.

THEY BOTH DO!!! Why do you think Crispin wants them?

Try Crispin.

O Crispin, Crispin, where are you? Speak to us, Crispin. Or at least give us a sign. Make us believe in you. Silence the doubters. Come on, man. Come from the sky profound, or the abyss.

You're paraphrasing Charlie boy now! I thought we weren't going to touch that twat with a bargepole. I thought we had told him to do one. I prefer Dylan. Always have done.

Well, he's not here, is he? No Charlie, no Crispin, no Simon, no Michael. It has been a complete $^$%££* $*%$$£ this morning.

Strong words!


Shut it!