Spent most of the day trying to rally sufficient pieces of paper to satisfy the anti-money laundering bureaucracy, which is spiralling out of control. Some 12 emails and 200 sheets of A4 paper later, I may just be permitted to work with a company that has been a client of our US firm for 10 years.Made the mistake of riding home during jogging rush hour - acres and acres of sweaty flesh encased in lycra wobbling around London's parks. Nice.
My head has turned to spinach having spent the evening reading two Information Memoranda on completely separate businesses, which have somehow become the same thing in my fevered mind. Although modesty prevents me from mentioning actual sectors, it's a bit like reading in quick succession (accompanied by a number of beers) about a sheep farm then a credit card business, and failing to remember whether the fall in mutton output is due to increased repayment deliquency by the lambs, or poor weather affecting the feeding habits of the Buy Now Pay Later customers.
Enough already.
A joke to end with:
Q: What do you call a French solider who chucks a hand grenade into a '70s kitchen?
A: Linoleum Blownapart. Tres drole.
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