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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 Sir Fred And The Weight Of Public Opinion →

More The Further Adventures Of Sir Fred >>

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 Sir Fred Fights Back →

More The Further Adventures Of Sir Fred >>

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 Sir Fred Rides Again →

More The Further Adventures Of Sir Fred >>

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 Sir Fred Breaks His Silence →

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In which LaFlamme's timely appearance saves Tony from more unnecessary pain at the hands of band manager George Lyttleton.

 

It was another throwback to Lyttleton’s 70’s musical pedigree.

“I’ve written a piece for the gatefold,” he said. What kind of gate is only four inches wide? I took the hand-written note and gazed at it blankly. “I think a written piece adds weight to the release, don’t you?” he continued. “We want it to have impact. It can’t just go off like a damp squid.” Once again, Lyttleton’s seafood obsession coloured his language. This time I was almost being drawn in to his world and finding the image of a damp squid going off sufficiently daunting.

Luckily at this point LaFlamme made a surprise appearance, arriving just in time to spare me having to read the piece. Lyttleton rose.

“LaFlamme,” he said, bowing his head slightly. This was unnecessary as she was already a head taller.

“I’m usually very good with names,” said LaFlamme, “but I’ve deliberately forgotten yours.”

Lyttleton shifted uneasily. “Well, I think we’re pretty much done here,” he said. There had been no mention of budget and that’s the way Lyttleton liked it. People like me should simply appreciate the privilege of working with such great talent and relish being a moth around a great flame.

“We can discuss costs later,” I suggested.

“Costs,” he said vaguely, as if unfamiliar with the term. “Yes. Of course.” He left to continue building his empire elsewhere.

LaFlamme meanwhile was flicking through Lyttleton’s photographs, casually dropping each in turn out of the open window.

By No Stretch Of The Imagination Can A CD Sleeve Ever Be Described As ‘Gatefold’

December 23, 2011
In which LaFlamme's timely appearance saves Tony from more unnecessary pain at the hands of band manager George Lyttleton.   It was another throwback to Lyttleton’s 70’s musical pedigree. “I’ve written a piece for the gatefold,” he said. What kind of gate is only four inches wide? I took the hand-written note and gazed at … Continue reading By No Stretch Of The Imagination Can A CD Sleeve Ever Be Described As ‘Gatefold’ →

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In which Tony takes design direction from band manager and knob George Lyttleton.

 

“In the meantime," said Lyttleton, after outlining his plans for the formation of an executive production company, "one of our stable has a new album coming out, and we have the usual artwork requirements.”

“Who’s the artist?” I asked.

“It’s not important.”

“Just out of interest.”

“A singer-songwriter by the name of Campbell.”

“Glen by any chance?”

“That’s right,” he said. “Campbell Glen.” I made a mental note never to make jokes with Lyttleton as he had no recognisable sense of humour.

“I’ve brought some photographs,” he continued, producing a hard-backed envelope which I proceeded to open. They were pictures of himself in various holiday locations, grinning cheesily at the camera.

“Wouldn’t it have been better to bring pictures of the singer?” I asked.

“Well yes, but I didn’t want to prejudice your design. It’s important to me that you employ whatever type of image you see fit, I have no clams about that.”

“You have no clams?”

“That’s right,” he said. “I don’t care.” Lyttleton may have been as confused as I was generally but even I wouldn’t mistake misgivings for shellfish.

George Lyttleton Has No Clams

December 10, 2011
In which Tony takes design direction from band manager and knob George Lyttleton.   “In the meantime," said Lyttleton, after outlining his plans for the formation of an executive production company, "one of our stable has a new album coming out, and we have the usual artwork requirements.” “Who’s the artist?” I asked. “It’s not … Continue reading George Lyttleton Has No Clams →

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In which Tony is visited by band manager and 'executive producer' George Lyttleton.

 

3pm

I awoke to the sound of the doorbell with a deep sense of dread. This was normal. Today it was doubly normal as I knew who was outside ringing it.

Band managers aren’t normally able to show their face in the same place twice due to the likelihood of them having done something embarrassing there in the past. But Lyttleton had no shame. He’d show up anywhere. He sauntered in and sat by the window. There wasn’t a chair there but he managed to perch on the sill, and in his slightly-too-small lime suit he looked like an over-stuffed parrot.

A relic from a bygone era – the 1970’s – Lyttleton was a man who had built a music industry career around doing nothing remotely musical. Short, stocky and wildly over-confident, he was never going to allow the fact that he had no interest in music stop him from being a success in the music industry.

It wasn’t that he actively disliked music. He just didn’t understand it. Consequently, he had no appreciation of musical skill or performing ability and actually considered himself the talent. “Anybody can be in a band,” he once told me. “The real skill is management.” Lyttleton’s actual skill was in projecting the idea that his time was invaluable. Anyone granted an audience should feel humbled.

He had epic delusions of grandeur. Despite the fact he was strictly a small-time operator, he insisted on giving his company overblown, grandiose names and having ‘associate executives’ who were other no-talent suits he had picked up on his way. There were few surprises for me when he outlined his plans.

“I’m about to announce the formation of a new arm of the business,” he began. “An executive production company called ‘Overhead Communications.’”

“Why Overhead?” I asked.

“It’s an umbrella group,” he replied. That’s what I get for asking. “A holding company for the other divisions.”

“How many divisions do you have there?” I asked, and regretted this question too as he rattled off a list of probably fictitious company names making frequent use of the words ‘incorporated’, ‘conglommerates’ and ‘united.’

It turns out an executive production company is one that doesn't produce anything, which is quite a feat for a production company. I couldn't wait to see what he had lined up for me.

Doubly Normal

December 2, 2011
In which Tony is visited by band manager and 'executive producer' George Lyttleton.   3pm I awoke to the sound of the doorbell with a deep sense of dread. This was normal. Today it was doubly normal as I knew who was outside ringing it. Band managers aren’t normally able to show their face in … Continue reading Doubly Normal →

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In which Tony and The Admiral continue Project X, their quest for an effective hangover cure, with dedicated input from Suave Gav.

 

Suave Gav was punctual, early even, and carried a heavy briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. He strode confidently around the room as introductions were made. “It’s quite alright,” he said. “I haven’t been followed.” Without delay he unlocked the cuffs, discarded his jacket and opened the case, unpacking an apron, funnel, several small jars with cloth coverings, test tubes, various twigs and roots, a syringe and finally a sheaf of papers bound together by elastic bands. He was certainly taking this evening seriously. By contrast, The Admiral produced his notepad of equations and a ceramic jug with a cork in the top. He seemed a little over-awed by Suave Gav’s intensity. I could see a little self-doubt flicker across his face.

Gavin was generous with his knowledge, at least for one whose knowledge arrived handcuffed to him. At length he outlined the extent of his research, pinning diagrams to the wall and highlighting with a laser pen. It was the nearest thing to a lecture I would ever witness. He explained the struggle he’d had in trying to produce an elixir from the branches of the Turpitude plant and made it sound as if it had been his life’s work. It had only been a week. Clearly he’d given up his day job or abandoned the whole idea of sleep in order to focus. He was committed. And if he wasn’t, he should be.

Suave Gav Wades In

November 23, 2011
In which Tony and The Admiral continue Project X, their quest for an effective hangover cure, with dedicated input from Suave Gav.   Suave Gav was punctual, early even, and carried a heavy briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. He strode confidently around the room as introductions were made. “It’s quite alright,” he said. “I haven’t … Continue reading Suave Gav Wades In →

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In which Tony and The Admiral continue the development of their hangover cure by inviting bon viveur Suave Gav to contribute.

 

The Admiral said he was only too happy to confer with a fellow gastronomic engineer on what we’d begun to call Project X. We didn’t call it Project X because it sounded cool or enigmatic, it was just the 24th such project we’d attempted. We were two projects away from starting again at Project A or finding some other alphabet to abuse.

When I explained to The Admiral that Suave Gav wasn’t actually an engineer but merely a hardened drinker with a vested interest in dealing with troublesome mornings after, The Admiral realised we were in Lorenzo’s Oil territory.

“All the better,” he said. “We must make our own miracles.”

Project X

November 6, 2011
In which Tony and The Admiral continue the development of their hangover cure by inviting bon viveur Suave Gav to contribute.   The Admiral said he was only too happy to confer with a fellow gastronomic engineer on what we’d begun to call Project X. We didn’t call it Project X because it sounded cool … Continue reading Project X →

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