... more like a chocolate truffle, that has melted into a gooey puddle of poo....
After the crash, we became lepers.. us Essex boys. No one would touch us with a barge pole. No one was interested in the kind of high risk, high pressure, ruthless, take-no-prisoners type of dealing that we'd been selected for and encouraged to use. We had been the yeoman of that age, the longbow-men, and after we'd ripped you, we'd give you the two fingers for good measure, Yeah !? But no they'd used us, we'd been tossed aside.
They wanted to go back the traditional old boys clubs that had "built the country"... relationships built on gentleman's honour and trust. As one interviewer had put it to me so bluntly "Frankly, it's not your fault, but you were just born in the wrong class and went to the wrong schools, for the business, today". F**k him... f**k them all. The ba**ards. I did think about joining al-sodding-qaida and showing them how to break "the business", yeah ?! It would be so easy.
But you probably don't get paid or laid there... you probably have to become celibate, pray three times a day, give them all you money.. and your life. F**k that! Revenge is too hard work anyway.
Being a free-lance loan and mortgage broker is the same game, only for less dough and less kudos. At the end of the day it's the same shyte. Buy cheap, manipulate the market, or the punters, sell for a lot, yeah ?! Usually to people who have no other options. And charge an arrangement fee too. It's so true, a new sucker is born everyday.
What I still couldn't understand though, was my declining success with the ladies. Yeah, I was reaching the big four oh, and maybe I'd grown a beer belly... you can't tell, can ya, yeah. And my dark hair has thinned a bit and become salt and peppery. But I can still keep cracking open them bottles of twenty quid Charles Rougemont champ. And my eight thousand pound guaranteed for life veneers are still sparkling. See. And no problems in the lower department. I’m still a fine specimen of manhood. Hell, I make myself horny thinking about me. So why am I being left to pound my own spud more often? Even changed cologne and deodorant. Thought I'd try this lynx stuff which they keep showing on the telly. I'm sure the women who see that add believe it.
But still, I just don't get it man. Last month was the last straw for me though....
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