Friday, March 26, 2004

Living In A Material World 

Rex the security guard is in chipper mood after an excellent week’s trading. He’s holding court to a gaggle of the newer staff outside the foyer, puffing on his pipe like the wise old sage that he is. They want to know how he does it. We all do, because if we did, we wouldn’t still be here.
He had a bit of a luck on Monday with coffee, made the most of it by ploughing into tomato ketchup futures on Tuesday morning, sold at the top price, and it was pork bellies all the way until Friday, when he cashed in his chips, so to speak. As far as I can make out, his investment decisions are led entirely by his stomach. He’s always tight lipped on the subject of how much he makes, but you can bet your buns it’s more than what he gets from the security firm. Porsches don’t come cheap and him and Mrs Rex have got one each.
“I have to say, having access to the net in that hut has turned my whole world around. Twenty sodding years of Spike and his sexual mis-adventures. Endless moaning about women and sodding North End, that's been my life for twenty miserable years. These days I come into work, plug in my ipod, get myself online and I’m away. He could be shagging Madonna for all I know, as long as I don’t have to hear about it, I couldn't care less. I hope they're both very happy together.”

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