Category Archives: The Further Adventures Of Sir Fred

In which Tony tolerates Sir Fred Godalming and Allen Stanthorpe working in his kitchen.

I was watching ‘The Wolfman’ with Lon Chaney Jr. on my little black and white portable. I only ever stayed with it for the part where he changes into a werewolf, as I found the rest of the story implausible. Tonight though, I could hardly let implausibility trouble me as there were members of an underground banking organisation working in the same room.

“Take a letter Stanthorpe,” said Godalming. The Texan took a seat in the new office chair I’d found discarded in the street earlier.

“Don’t you have offices yet?” I asked. It wasn’t that I minded them working in my kitchen but I thought a third party business might conflict with the terms of my household insurance policy, if I’d ever bothered to get one.

“Indeed we do,” said Godalming. “However, our chambers are in a state of unreadiness at this precise point.”

“They’re gettin’ painted,” said Stanthorpe, his excitement at the prospect clearly visible. “Blue!”

“Bernard, comma,” continued Godalming, as Stanthorpe did his best with one finger typing. Unfortunately, as he did so I noticed that the office chair, which I had manhandled to a height that would suit his robust frame, had slowly begun to sink lower. Stanthorpe didn’t seem to notice and continued typing.

“We have received the necessary papers and will now proceed with phase two of the operation, full stop. Arrangements are in place with your captors for your imminent release. I suggest you pack a woolly jumper or two, as the climate here may be a little inclement for your rich blood. The food, too, is a trifle bizarre, so I hope you like trifle.

“Mr. Boaks has been extremely co-operative, malleable even, and I think you will agree has been an excellent choice of patsy. I should mention that The Order are very pleased with the latest developments and that at the next gathering I shall be making a full presentation. Or at least a Powerpoint.”

By this time, the office chair had sunk to its lowest position, very close to the floor, but Stanthorpe soldiered on regardless, his arms raised above shoulder level and his neck stretched so he could just see above the table-top. Now I knew why it had been discarded.

“In conclusion,” said Godalming, “we look forward to scheming and conniving with you soon. Till then, yours, Freddy. Sign and print.”

“Gotcha,” said Stanthorpe.

I suppose I should have felt slighted by some of these comments but the truth is I didn’t much care. I was used to clients taking appalling liberties, making no attempts to disguise their contempt and generally hanging around my kitchen bothering me, so this was nothing new.

After the boys finished their cocoa, Stanthorpe helped Godalming with his cape once again and the duo prepared to leave.

“Can you bring in some milk?” I said. “We’re running low.”

“Certainly,” said Godalming.

“What flavour do you want?” said Stanthorpe.

A Trifle Bizarre

May 24, 2012

In which Tony tolerates Sir Fred Godalming and Allen Stanthorpe working in his kitchen. I was watching ‘The Wolfman’ with Lon Chaney Jr. on my little black and white portable. I only ever stayed with it for the part where he changes into a werewolf, as I found the rest of the story implausible. … Continue reading →

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In an unusual twist, Sir Fred Godalming asks a question that Tony is more accustomed to asking others. At least this time Boaks is the one laughing.

"What's so funny?" said Sir Fred, after declaring himself the 'Blofeld of Banking.'

"Nothing, I suppose," I said, with tears running down my legs. "But you might want to reconsider that title before attending the Conference for Failed Bankers Turned Criminal Masterminds."

"Too aggressive?" he said.

"I imagine there may be stiff competition for the title," I replied. "Certainly in those circles. You can at least expect a challenge from Bernard Madolph." I knew that although Madolph was serving time, he used a body double to allow him to attend such key events in the criminal masterminds' diary.

"You could be right," said Sir Fred. "Bernard has never forgiven me for amassing my fortune without breaking the law. Although I don't think he has any real claim to the title as he's not technically a banker."

"He's hardly a mastermind either. He got caught."

"He's technically a criminal though. 150 years in Pentonville State is fairly conclusive."

"That's only two out of four."

"Yes," said Sir Fred. "But he deserves extra points for outstanding effort." Godalming was right. It takes a monumental force of will to sustain an $80bn fraud over 30 years.

"In any event," I said, "you should probably be focussing on your speech. Have you planned anything?"

"Only the announcement of my new underground operation," he replied. "I expect it to raise eyebrows, and in Bernard's case, probably much more."

"Yes," I said. "It won't just be the competition that's stiff."

What’s So Funny?

February 8, 2012

In an unusual twist, Sir Fred Godalming asks a question that Tony is more accustomed to asking others. At least this time Boaks is the one laughing. "What's so funny?" said Sir Fred, after declaring himself the 'Blofeld of Banking.' "Nothing, I suppose," I said, with tears running down my legs. "But you might … Continue reading →

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In which Tony continues his assignment for the self-professed 'Blofeld of Banking,' Sir Fred Godalming.

It was midnight, and Sir Fred seemed agitated when he rose from his crate of earth.

"I can't believe this government," he said. "They thought they were bowing to the weight of public opinion by rescinding my knighthood. But they’re so spectacularly out of touch with public opinion, the very act of rescindment has shifted it in my favour.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” I asked.

“It might be if I cared,” he replied. “You forget that, although I may have no formal banking qualifications of my own, I’ve spent a great deal of time around bankers. And since when do they give a toss about public opinion?”

He had a point. If the bankers ever listened to public opinion, most would be beating themselves with wet fish - the alternative to banker bonuses preferred by the general public.

“But the fact is, Tony,” he continued, “I’m finding all this to be quite a distraction. How can I be expected to expand my evil empire with public opinion behind me? Do you think Blofeld had widespread public sympathy when he was intent on world domination?”

“Well,” I replied, “maybe if you suggest you’d like to be known as the Blofeld of Banking from now on, it might redress the balance.”

Sir Fred And The Weight Of Public Opinion

February 4, 2012

In which Tony continues his assignment for the self-professed 'Blofeld of Banking,' Sir Fred Godalming. It was midnight, and Sir Fred seemed agitated when he rose from his crate of earth. "I can't believe this government," he said. "They thought they were bowing to the weight of public opinion by rescinding my knighthood. But … Continue reading →

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In which Sir Fred Godalming is defiant in the face of losing his knighthood.

I was nearing the completion of Sir Fred’s assignment when I heard the news. Clearly, being stripped of a knighthood was not something that happened every day, at least not to me, and I wondered how the failed banker turned criminal mastermind would take it.

“Evening, Fred,” I said with a slight snigger, when he arrived as usual at midnight.

“It’s still Sir Fred,” he said defiantly. “I had my name changed by deed poll some years ago. You think I didn’t see this moment coming?”

“That was good thinking,” I replied.

“Unfortunately, they've also stripped me of my deed poll.”

“Ah.”

“However, this is a mere technicality. Under Scots Law, all that’s required for a name change is to be registered with a physician and an orthodontist under said name. I’ve had my doctor and dentist address me as ‘Sir’ for years. Long before I was knighted, in fact.”

“I suppose if your doctor and dentist call you 'Sir' it must be true.”

“Exactly,” he replied. “And I still have a medal, which I have to say compliments my pyjamas beautifully. They can’t take that away from me. Anyway, on to more pressing matters. Now my real work can begin.”

“Do we have a name for this new organisation?” I asked, referring to the underground bank he was starting with Bernard Madolph.

“Yes,” he said. “We’re going to call it Bear Stearns.”

“Bear Stearns?” I replied. “Isn’t that name already taken?”

“That’s the beauty of it,” he said. “Nobody will notice this way.”

I had to admire his ingenuity. Clearly this type of thinking was what had propelled him to the top of his profession, even if it had propelled him straight back down again.

Sir Fred Fights Back

February 2, 2012

In which Sir Fred Godalming is defiant in the face of losing his knighthood. I was nearing the completion of Sir Fred’s assignment when I heard the news. Clearly, being stripped of a knighthood was not something that happened every day, at least not to me, and I wondered how the failed banker turned … Continue reading →

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After a thinly disguised Sir Fred Godalming appeared at Tony's door introducing himself as 'Mr. Smith,' Tony was engaged to produce designs for his new underground banking venture.

Sir Fred insisted I work on the new designs only between the hours of midnight and 6 am. There was to be no deviation from this timetable. After a week of working nights I was starting to feel like a real graphic designer.

Godalming was cagey about what information he provided throughout the week, but each night he let his guard down a little further. During night one, he suggested I call him Fred and on night two he admitted Smith wasn’t his real name. On night three, when he said his real name was Montezuma, I reminded him the name on his cheque was Godalming. He told me that was a stage name.

On night four he said he’d changed his stage name to Carlos The Jackal Santini and later that he’d retired from the stage. But by night five he’d given up all pretence of not being Sir Fred Godalming - which was a relief as I was ready to start calling him Mr. Twat.

Sir Fred Rides Again

January 30, 2012

After a thinly disguised Sir Fred Godalming appeared at Tony's door introducing himself as 'Mr. Smith,' Tony was engaged to produce designs for his new underground banking venture. Sir Fred insisted I work on the new designs only between the hours of midnight and 6 am. There was to be no deviation from this … Continue reading →

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In which Tony provides a brief recap of the Sir Fred story for the uninitiated, prior to suffering further encounters with the failed banker turned criminal mastermind.

It had been a while since I'd heard from Sir Fred. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing and in retrospect I should have simply enjoyed the silence. But I suppose it was only a matter of time before he resurfaced, given that I appear to be a popular choice of stooge amongst banking lowlife.

To recap, Sir Fred Godalming had been head of the AUA, the Allied Uber Alles, previously one of the largest banking operations in the world. Despite its name, the AUA did not originate in Germany but did appear to be inspired by certain aspects of its Twentieth century philosophy.

After the bank’s expansionist policies caused it to bloat up like a balloon and the inevitable pin-prick occurred, Godalming chose not to join other high-ranking officials who fled to Argentina. Instead he skipped off to the south of France, having first ensured he was obscenely rich from the operation.

He was a despised figure in his native Scotland, where bankers are publicly flogged and made to wear floral head-dresses to distinguish them from normal people. That would go some way to explain the anti-social hours he kept. However, he also appeared to cast no shadow and had no reflection in the mirror.

When he showed up at 3am apologising for being on Monaco time, I reminded him it was 5am there. He said he needed a new watch.

Sir Fred Breaks His Silence

January 14, 2012

In which Tony provides a brief recap of the Sir Fred story for the uninitiated, prior to suffering further encounters with the failed banker turned criminal mastermind. It had been a while since I'd heard from Sir Fred. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing and in retrospect I should have simply enjoyed the silence. … Continue reading →

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Interviewing Texas billionaire Allen Stanford for a position in Fred Goodwin's new underground bank was one of the more unusual tasks I've been assigned as a graphic designer. But it was Goodwin's request and the grinning buffoon had already shown up so I decided to make the best of it.

I began by asking for his CV and he duly obliged, with a wide-eyed enthusiasm rarely seen in adults. As it turned out, the semi-literate hand-written note he thrust before me was also remarkably child-like. I decided to quiz him directly rather than attempt a deciphering.

"What experience do you think you could bring to this role, Allen?" It was the first and undoubtedly last time I'd ever utter these words.

"Gee, well I guess I built my own bank in Antigua!"

"Hmm."

"It went from strength to strength and became a rock for the island state!"

"That's not particularly deviant or wicked though, is it?" I asked. "You are aware this is an underground organisation?"

"Then I got loaded and blew all the money in Vegas!"

"Aha!" This was more like what Sir Fred was looking for in his staff. In fact, Stanford was the perfect candidate. Not only was he childish, greedy and remorseless, he was also a hopeless gambler.

"You're just the man we're looking for," I said. "You're hired!"

The Banker’s Apprentice

June 12, 2009

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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.

"Interview?"

"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.

All The Way From Texas

May 16, 2009

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Sir Fred Goodwin's new banking venture with Bernie Madoff was beginning to take shape. I had been working on their branding for several weeks and noted certain familiar names in their corporate literature. Specifically, the company directors were listed as: 'F. Goodwin, B. Madoff, N. Leeson, J. Kerviel.' For an underground organisation, their credentials were impeccable.

I had also gotten to know Goodwin himself over these weeks and found him to be quite pleasant. I may have been a little concerned about his 'conquering the world' comments, but reminded myself that they obviously never bothered anyone at his last bank.

One detail that he had kept under wraps until now was the name of the new organisation.

"We're going to call it AIG," he announced during our most recent nocturnal confab.

"AIG?" I replied. "Isn't that name already taken?"

"That's the beauty of it. I figure nobody will really notice this way."

It was a bold strategy and we would have to wait to see if it paid off. But one thing was sure: I had to admire Goodwin's determination. His journey from failed banker to criminal mastermind was well underway.

Fred Goodwin’s New Bank

April 26, 2009

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'Mr. Smith,' as he insisted on being known, turned out to be a demanding client. Phone calls were scheduled for midnight each night, when he would outline the nature of the work I was to undertake during the subsequent hours of 12-6. There was to be no deviation. Electric light was forbidden but candles were acceptable. I asked about my twin monitor set-up and he reckoned that was ok.

It was a tough, gruelling assignment. After two weeks working nights I was starting to feel like every other graphic designer in the world.

Sir Fred was taking no chances, but each night he let his guard down a little further. One conversation was particularly revealing. Amongst details of brand guidelines and Pantone references, Goodwin hinted at the reasons for the downfall of his previous banking venture.

"You see," he began in a soft Paisley brogue, "there are those who say I went too far. But my problem was I didn't go far enough. I was just too reasonable."

I took this as evidence he was a complete radge, but he wasn't any worse than Spore or my other lowlife clients.

"That's why, this time around, I have enlisted some of the biggest twisters ever known to man to create a joint banking venture that will one day conquer the world."

Ok, I don't recall Spore ever mentioning conquering the world. But I let him continue.

"Soon you will be contacted by my associate, who is sadly detained at this moment in time. This contact will be made by letter. Which normally takes 5-7 working days."

Before he rang off, Goodwin concluded: "It may or may not surprise you to hear that the name of the contact will be.." He paused. "Bernard Madoff."

I didn't much care, so long as he paid his bills upfront.

My New Client, Sir Fred Goodwin

April 22, 2009

A thinly disguised Fred Goodwin had appeared at my door to commission visuals for his new banking venture. Normally he wouldn't have made it across the threshold but on this occasion I liked the cut of his chequebook. 'Mr. Smith,' as he insisted on being known, turned out to be a demanding client. Phone calls … Continue reading →

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