Sunday, 29 April 2012
Merde-och to Wendi: Mornin darlin. Y'know I was thinking that the great bloody thing about capitalism is competition. You won't understand this, but all my life I've been in competition with these other bloody paper and TV people, and the thing is I've crushed'em. Crushed'em like a fist going through a Pavlova. In fact, I've crushed so many of'em there's hardly any bloody competition left! That's competition for you, eh? Are you listening? And of course, I have to tell you this, sometimes to be ahead in the game, you have to cut corners. That's what it is. If people out there want to know what these bloody celebrities are thinking, then we can't read their bloody brains, can we? But we can listen in to them, can't we? That's what all this fuss is about. It's like eavesdropping at a bloody party. Look, if these bloody people don't want to be eavesdropped, tell'em to get off their bloody phones. Anyway, I'm trying to talk about competition here, darlin and I don't think you're listening. What I'm trying to say is that competition is what business is all about: cut costs - that means taking out the unions, thanks very bloody much, bringing in the technology, and getting ahead of the game even if it mean slipping a few dollars to some cop who needs to buy his kids a doll or something, eh? But y'know even then it might not be enough. This is what I'm saying. You have to be sweet with the people calling the shots. For better or worse, it might be these bloody politicians. So that's where we got to. We went to the parties, you remember that one in Oxfordshire that time, took us a bloody age to get there? And they sort us out. I liked that Jeremy feller. He seemed a nice young man. He was on our side. But now look. These opportunist bastards are after his skin. That's the kind of unprincipled shits they are. Excuse my French, darlin. Have you got those bloody blood pressure pills? We're not out the woods yet, darlin, we may have to think about retiring to the Catskills.