Criminal mastermind Fred Goodwin had kept me busy designing corporate stationery for his new underground bank - so busy that I had been neglecting my other lowlife clients. This didn't strike me as a problem, in fact it could be considered a perk.
But just when I thought I could return to analysing Ignacious Spore's Twitter ramblings it became clear Goodwin had other chores in mind.
The doorbell rang and I was faced with a tall moustachioed man with wild eyes and an insane grin. I figured either he was on something or it was Texas billionaire Allen Stanford. Unfortunately it appeared to be both.
"What the hell do you want?" I asked. This was a customary greeting I had adopted for all my clients. Experience had taught me it was best this way.
"I'm here for the interview," he declared excitedly, that crazy grin growing by the second.
"Sure. Sir Fred tells me you're the guy to know round here!"
Stanford proceeded to explain that Goodwin had been so pleased with my design work, he had given me an executive role in the new venture and I was now in a position of some authority. Clearly the loss of his previous bank had shattered his tiny mind.
The prospect of working with some of the greatest swindlers ever known was daunting, but on reflection I rather fancied it. Hell, if the bankers could make a hash of things, wait till everyone saw what it was like once the graphic designers were through.
The only question was how graphic designers would fit the work between AA meetings.