Permira and the wall of cash

Crashing into our minds, a wall of cash will smash us, a burning wall of money!

O my children, my brothers, my sisters, my consciousness is on fire! Be my babies. I'll make you happy, my babies, just wait and see. For every kiss you give me, I'll give you three. A kiss of money! A mouthful of cash! O Kurt Bjorklund, say it, say it, man! 'There is a wall of cash coming towards our investors over the next few years.' Yes! Yes! Yes! We will put a bullet of cash into the mouth of every investor. Yes! Yes! Yes! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bullets as well! And the wall - let it burn them! A burning wall, sweeping over them, over us!

Where is Nicholas Levene?

I think we can safely say that Nick Levene is a man who has lived the dream, but where the fuck is he? Apparently, this City financier (derivatives trader) and vice chairman of Leyton Orient FC has done a runner, owing his mates/business associates £70 million or so. For reasons best known to themselves, they call him "Beano". Well, I suppose it could be worse. They could call him the Gangster of Love.

Or the Space Cowboy.

Yes, they could call him the Space Cowboy. Thankfully, they don't.

But maybe they should.

Yes, maybe they should. Because, dear reader - THIS IS A WORLD EXCLUSIVE - I can reveal that Nick is floating around in his own inner space and touching our astral plane in the most wondrous of ways.

O Master, does this mean we can hear him speak?

YES, IT DOES!

Take it away, Nick: 'O Master, can I call you "Master"? You can call me "Beano". I don't mind. Yes, yes, yes, you are right, Master. I am off floating, touching the plane, touching all the believers inside, but hidden from the cold ones of the world who would chase after me for mere money if only they knew where to look. We are men of wisdom. Men ahead of our time. You understand me, don't you, Master? Why should I worry about Richard Caring, or Raymond O’Rourke, or Brian Souter, or Ann Gloag, or … I could go on, but I won't. They are not real to me. What is real to me? Let me tell you: Big Herb is real. Ganesh the elephant god is real. The ghosts of the dead financiers are real. And do they frown upon my activities? Do they look down on me? No! They love me! They welcome me with open arms, in the astral desert of our dreams, in the astral sky of our dreams, and in the astral sea of our dreams - with dolphins! Not sharks! Dolphins! Truly, I am a man who has lived the dream. I'm still living it, man!'

Yeah. Whatever you want to say about Nick, you have to admit that he is living the dream.

Meredith Whitney downgrades Goldman shares!

Yeah. Goldman Sachs' third-quarter earnings are released later this week, and Meredith Whitney - you know, that top analyst bird - has downgraded the bank's shares from buy to neutral. This is an outrage!

O Master, it's always an outrage with you, isn't it?

What does Pablo Picasso have to say about the matter?

The big bouquet of horrors and frights is already waving farewell. And the mussel shells are clacking their teeth, scared to death under the icy ears of boredom.

O Master, I'm sick of this shit! When are you going to stop with all these random quotes which are not germane to the subject in hand?

O my child, the goddamn Germans got nothing to do with it!

Ah yes. The old Buford T. Justice joke. Very amusing. Can we get back to Meredith now?

Meredith. Meredith. Meredith. Where was I?

Oh yes. I am speaking to Meredith. I am listening to her. She explains herself. This is what she speaks unto me: 'Michael, there is a season for everything. You've read Rimbaud. You know all about the seasons of the soul. And you've read Ecclesiastes. And you've listened to the Byrds, no doubt. Well, it's the same for banks. The same for Goldman. There is a time to buy, a time to downgrade to neutral, and a time to sell. Eight miles high, and when you touch down, you dig? Sure, that's a different song, but you dig, yeah? Tell me you dig, Mikey, for Christ's sake!'

O sexy Meredith, of course I dig, girl. But dig this shit -

'The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning; but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.'

O Master, that sounds like some heavy King Solomon shit! Am I right?

O my child, you are not wrong. King James version, as well.

King James version! You're spoiling us today. Fuck!

But is it germane to the subject? Who cares?! My consciousness will go wherever it wishes.

Riccardo Banchetti ($26,040,000), Georges Assi ($18,637,921), David Bizer ($21,361,794), Giancarlo Saronne ($12,883,007) …

… Harsh Shah (he wants more than $10m), and Kieran Higgins (God knows how much he wants).

Yeah. That's the money these guys want, and I reckon they should get it.

All of them worked at Lehman Brothers. To them, these sums represent lost pay and bonuses.

But what else did they lose?

In the dark, lonely nights following the collapse of Lehman, didn't they also lose the burning inside, the voices of ghosts, and the love of Big Herb? How on earth could they ever be compensated for such losses?

THEY SHOULD BE GIVEN THE MONEY THEY ARE CLAIMING.

It may go some way to assuaging their grief.

Kris Haber to Threadneedle and beyond!

Beyond Threadneedle! Beyond money!

It had to happen sooner or later. It had to happen. Mr Haber had to leave Lazard Asset Management. There was no way he could stay, after seeing what he had seen, after experiencing such miseries beyond the imagination of any normal financier, banker or trader. So, dear reader, try not to imagine! And do not dare judge him, or attempt to criticize him. You should walk a mile in his old shoes first. But you would not want to walk a mile in Mr Haber's old shoes - oh, he has new shoes now, Threadneedle shoes! No, you would not even want to walk half a mile. Those shoes wouldn't fit you anyway. You would crawl. Yes, you would crawl through an astral waste land, an astral desert, a lonely city street, a gutter! Yes, you would fall into the gutter, and you would not survive such a terrible fate.

But Kris has survived! He has been through it all. And now he must go further! Oh, they say he has joined as head of Threadneedle's North American and hedge fund businesses. And maybe he has. Maybe he has. BUT THAT IS NOT THE WHOLE TRUTH. They have not been willing to tell us everything. They are afraid, you see. They know that Kris must go beyond money now. He cannot be held back! Kris is a man who has a strong sense of his own destiny. He could never be satisfied with working in an office. That would be INSANE. Kris is a man who knows, who feels it in his burning soul, that he must stretch himself. He will travel beyond money! He will go on to the astral plane. HE WILL RISK HIS LIFE. He will put his burning soul on the line. And his aura! Yes, it is a crimson aura he has. I have seen it. As Mallarme would say: his naked aura is thrashing crimson space. No, that's not right. His naked golds are thrashing his crimson aura. No! But … you understand, right, dear reader? Surely you understand me well enough by now.

And what if he fails? What if Kris burns himself to a crisp? What then? Well, as another poet would say: other horrible workers will come! They will begin at the horizons where the first one has fallen! Where Kris has fallen! Yes, if Kris fell, down, down, down he would go! Spiralling out of sight, away from the gaze of our sad eyes. We would not be able to reach him. Not even with our minds! HE WOULD NOT SURVIVE THAT.

O Kris, we love you! We love and respect you so very much. Good luck with it all.

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.

Eh?

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!

WHAT OF A BAMBOO MAN AMONG YOUR ACRES?

Shut it!

Darren Morton and Christopher Parry: free as birds!

Absolutely brilliant news! Darren Morton and Christopher Parry, both employees of Dresdner Kleinwort (Commerzbank), have got away scot-free! Okay, the FSA had a go at them. Accused them of market abuse 'in relation to a new issue of Barclays' bonds'. Some K2 shit. But that ain't no big deal. THEY DIDN'T GET FINED. That's the main thing.

I have been speaking to award-winning financial psychic Keith Busby about the lads. This is what he told me: 'Mikey, Daz and Chris are personal friends of mine. We go back years - ever since they came to one of my chakra workshops. They are great guys. (Keith, mate, have you spoken to them?) Yeah, I was on the astral plane with them just half an hour ago. They are as free as birds now. Flying through the astral sky with gay abandon. Their auras are shining. Their chakras are whirling. (Keith, it sounds like they're just happy to be alive. Enjoying the astral plane. Having it large - as it were.) Oh Mikey, there is no 'were' about it. They ARE having it large. Right now, as we speak! (Fucking awesome, Keith!) And you know they didn't profit from their trades, don't you? (They'll be rewarded in the afterlife.) Of course they will.'

Free as birds! Dear reader, do you have astral eyes? Watch them!

Maan al Sanea: frozen money!

This is the first I have heard of it. But as soon as I heard of it. Which is right now. Yes, right now I hear of it. Voices out of the desert? O my child, what do you think, man? Maan al Sanea - such a groovy name, maaaaaaaaaaaaaan!!! - has had all his money frozen!

This is an outrage!

Only yesterday I was speaking, Louie Louie was speaking, of the hot, sticky money that loves us in the desert of our dreams. O Master, the money that we love! Yes! Yes! Yes! Now this: Maan has bills to pay. $800,000 a month! BUT $9.2 BILLION OF HIS HARD-EARNED CASH has been stolen! Frozen? Whatever. But he can't get his hands on the money.

CHARLES BAUDELAIRE HAS SOMETHING TO SAY!!!: And yet among the jackals, panthers, hounds, the monkeys, serpents, vultures, scorpions, the beasts which howl and growl and crawl and scream and in our heinous zoo of sins -

Button it, Charlie boy! We ain't got time for your shit.

O Master, Maan has a zoo, man!

WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS!!!

O Big Herb, please unfreeze Maan's money. He is a good lad. He is one of us. Please help him. Bless him with sticky money. Let a million suns burn the money into his face. Then we will all be able to sing and dance together in the desert of our dreams. Astral, physical, metaphysical muthas together as one!

Amen. Or rather - fuckin' A!

Pimco’s Bill Gross says the Total Return fund is staying open!

Those vast nights which know no lullaby - Charles Baudelaire

Right, the good news is: we don't have to worry about no fucking vast nights without any knowledge of some lullaby shit. At least, not where Pimco's co-chief investment officer Bill Gross is concerned. And you wanna know why? Well, because he ain't closing his Total Return fund. This fund has $186 billion in assets now, and more investors are welcome!

And the bad news? There ain't no bad news. Not today. Charlie can go screw himself.

3001 AD: Jimmy L. Barker, Robert J. Ladrach, and Marc S. Rifkin

Oh, it was some kind of boiler room oddity, and that's why the SEC charged these guys, and these sales agents who were working for these visionaries - Ronald B. Bowsky, Jack W. Maddock, and Michael J. Weidgans. Yeah, Jimmy, Robert, and Marc - mad visionary muthas! But I ain't gonna judge them, man, because I know where they're coming from and where they're going to. These guys can see into the future - a thousand years!

They got $20 million out of 500 investors! It was an odyssey! These dudes were off floating in their own private cosmos. They went from Florida to somewhere else, where only a handful of souls have ever been. No, scrub that! THEY ARE THE ONLY ONES! They made it for themselves.

Well, yeah, private cosmos, boss. Obviously.

Yeah. But was it virtual reality? No, it was REAL! REAL REALITY!

Let me tell you what is real. I am real. The mystical children are real. WE BURN IN THE FUCKING DESERT! This isn't a joke to us. This is HOW WE LIVE. And you want to disrespect us, man?

O Master, who are you talking to?

I ain't talking to no one, my child. But I'm talking to everyone, you dig? People say to me: 'Man, you shouldn't speak of the desert. You shouldn't speak of the burning. The world isn't ready. The world won't understand. They may think it's not real.'

Who are these people?

They are voices. Just like you, like me. I'M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS SHIT! Jimmy Barker - that man took a risk! He ain't no illusion, he's real. FLESH AND FUCKING BLOOD, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!!! Same goes for Robert and Marc. I understand what they were trying to achieve.

Have they ever been in the desert?

I don't know. That's not important. I tell you one thing, my child. They are familiar with the cosmos. THEY HAVE BEEN LOVED BY THE COSMOS. And that's good enough for me.

Their private cosmos.

Whatever.