Inside Track

I tried the mobile number that Hamish, my old city pal, had given me. The phone tripped straight onto an ansaphone message. The voice didn't sound much like Theo Paphitis - at least not the one that I had listened to on the box. In fact it was rather more like someone putting on a fake North London Greek accent. Even stranger, the voice, the tone and pitch was faintly recognisable. After trying the number another fifteen times to no avail, I just left a message.
Then an hour later, my phone rang and somebody calling themselves Stelios said in a obviously false London-Greek accent, "Why you calling my phone? Who are the bleedin' hell you think you are leaving that message?"
I responded cautiously, "So you're not Theo, Theo..?"
"Theo? I'm not Theo. I told you, I'm Stelios."
"Okey dokey... Sorry about that," I replied and called off, confused and suspecting that Hamish might have been up to some of his old tricks. Back to square one it seemed. Maybe I should try Marcus - the guy with the inside track on Dragons Den. I know this idea of mine seemed far-fetched, just appearing on the set unannounced, but then isn't that how all these entrepreneurs get what they want? Through nerve, through daring?
In the end I spent the rest of the morning faffing. Lacking motivation after the heavy weekend, I aimlessly browsed the internet - as many, many bored city workers do in this dull and directionless segment of the week.
Something caught my eye: Legal Uppers. It was on a website called "Legally off your face." The drugs claimed to offer a perfect solution to 'those weary Monday morning blues'. However they were produced in a molecular form that meant that they were legal and that you could even give them to your grandmother.
Ever since Minxy had started spending more time at the flat, I required a bit more pep in the mornings to get me going. Maybe this was the answer. I clicked on the buy-now link, gave my credit card details and then just sat idly back in my chair gazing into space. Then I thought, maybe I should try and get hold of Duncan Bannatyne's mobile number instead. I'm sure Uncle Otto says he knows him.
Posted by guest blogger Wat Tyler

This is an ex-banker.

"Another day, another ruddy headline about soaring bonuses. When I see such articles I want to puke. I jumped ship a year ago, assuming that the party was well and truly over - as a lot of people did. The whole global financial system was fucked and it would be sufficient just to avoid global catastrophe. Who would have dreamt that huge wads of cash would return to the square mile?

When I scarpered, everyone was banging on about changing their ways, adapting to the new world order. All those smug journalists, who’d until recently venerated rampant consumerism and stratospheric property prices were overnight converts to the bohemian love of simple, unconventional living. And I thought I might give the 'alternative lifestyle' a go myself, especially if it let me live a little.

I knocked out a Michael Lewis style book about the last days of banking, a snapshot of impoverished bankers trying to reinvent themselves. Stupid time to do it, though. These impoverished bankers, as it happens, were all busy writing Michael Lewis style books about the last days of banking, and overwhelming publishers and agents with the manuscripts. After the tenth rejection letter I presumed that nobody really wanted to know.

Now, I'm trying to flog this new website idea and it’s the same old grind, day in day out. But what makes it worse is that I get up in the morning and see these bloody headlines about massive bonuses. Do I feel righteous indignation? Of course I do. I never imagined that, had I hung on a bit, I might have managed one last walloping payday. That might have kept my alternative life thing ticking over for a little longer.

Oh well, perhaps I should give the Dragon's Den idea another try. If I could just get through to Evan Davis direct… Not sure it's the done thing, mind you. But then 'who dares...' and all that...

Old mate of mine who's still working in the city says that he knows the mobile number of Theo Paphitis no less. Wonder if it would piss the ‘Dragon’ off, though, if I gave him a tinkle..."
By guest blogger Wat Tyler