- Revision #5 - March 3, 2008 8:57:54 PM UTC

After the crash, we became like 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 bred for. We had been the longbow yeoman of that age, yeah ?! The ones who'd cut the throats of their prisoners without a second thought, and give you the two fingers if you talked about chivalry !? But now, they spat when they talked about us.. at least they would have, if wasn't so ungentlemanly. Geez.

They wanted to go back the traditional old boys clubs that had "built the country"... relationships built on a gentlemans' 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".

Thaks a lot for nuffin ! Actually, damn him to hell... and thow away the key. Damn them all. The scabs. I did think about joining al-sodding-qaida, yeah... seriously. And showing them how to break "the business", yeah ?! It would be so easy.
But you probably don't get paid or laid with those twats... you probably have to become celibate, pray three times a day, give them all your money.. and your life. Fig that! Revenge is too hard work anyway.

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, you don't ever have to con the same person twices... there's too many idiots in the world.

But 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 was a little flabbier than in the old days. And my dark hair has thinned a bit and become salt and peppery. But they say that makes a man more distinguished. But I can still keep cracking open them bottles of twenty quid Charles Rougemont champ. And my eight K, guaranteed for life, veneers are still sparkling. 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 that Lynx stuff which they keep showing on the telly. That's a pretty ht ad, and I'm sure the women who see it believe it. Know what I'm saying.

And what happened next was the last straw for me.