Tag: Lady Green

A Fistfull of Dollars

Sir Philip Green is pictured alongside Kendall Jenner, Cara Delevingne and Rita Ora at some fashion award bash. They are all very glamorous of course, Green aside who has his arms around the waists of Cara and Rita. This picture is all you need to know about the self appointed ‘elite’ who surf the world’s wealth creation, sucking it up for themselves while tossing aside the concerns and interests of those who actually do the work as just so much detritus upon a sewer soaked sea. MPs are wondering if ‘Sir’ Philip should lose his knighthood. That’s like considering if the mongrel dog, caught shafting the pedigree bitch, is able to exercise any judgment beyond the base instinct to fuck something animate or inanimate as long as it has a squeaky or moist hole and is thus fit to guard the door to the meat counter in Waitrose. I’d sooner accept Casanova’s claim to celibacy than accept Sir “let’s fuck the pensioners” Green’s claim to any title except “greedy bastard“. Meanwhile the tax payer may have to again fork out for boardroom fuckwittery to the tune of £36 million in lost VAT, corporation tax and employee claims. Green’s company Arcadia is also owed money but as a secured creditor will get it back.

When are these c*nts going to stop taking the free market piss? I await the acolytes of the Adam Smith Institute to cry foul and actually quote their hero’s ‘Theory of Moral Sentiments‘. I suspect that the enlightened Scot would take a dim view of spivs, suggesting that not only should they not run a market stall but also that they take their not so ‘invisible hands’ out of the pockets of the populace and instead grip their own balls till their own eyes bleed.

Glamour and wealth are of course often seen together, Kendall, Cara and Rita being more known for the curves of their arses than their philanthropic acumen. This might be unfair, they might have invisible charitable foundations that support dolphin insemination, kitten cuddling and providing Jimmy Choos for cancer ridden orphans. Green provides the wealth in this picture and in comparison, the three clothes hangers are paupers notwithstanding the implied pot of gold hidden between their legs. Glamour provides the facility to make more money than the Royal Mint simply by flashing itself, and then adorning itself with the vacuous products of the glitterati of the fashion ‘industry’ while attracting billionaire parasites with the ethics and sensitivity to other’s feelings of a berserker Viking at a village gang rape.

There’s nothing quite so attractive as a pile of banknotes. Although Green’s face resembles a crinkly fiver whose history includes being crunched in the pocket of a pock marked pimp, exchanged by a sailor for a heroin riddled blow job in the back of a cab and used in lieu of a twenty for some surreptitious snorting off a crack whore’s tits, it also references the wad he has stashed in his wife’s name in tax haven Monaco. A wife by the way who has recently benefited to the tune of £53 million by selling BHS’s HQ’s London property to…her husband’s company Arcadia. Lady Green controlled the sale through an offshore company: Wilton Equity in the British Virgin Islands. Money loves money.

The three models, rictus grinning as he no doubt groped their arses while the camera clicks, know this. The crinkles are reinterpreted as noughts on a bank account. They’ve already sold their bodies once in their professional lives in exchange for the dubious status of ‘pretty young thing’, so standing next to a pile of cash is second nature. Who cares that this cash is as clean as a dung beetle’s food choice. Where’s there’s muck….

While Green is washing his hands, Chapell, who bought BHS for a quid, is accused by his own managers of “having his fingers in the till”. Mike Ashley at Sports Direct and the ex CEO of Boots have followed VWs disregard for the public and their workers. Millionaire playboys play politics arguing over the pork barrel and look the other way while Green’s company, Arcadia who owns Topshop, Wallis and Dorothy Perkins, mismanage their finances. Their pension funds also have a shortfall of £151 million. Maxwell threw himself overboard but it was the Mirror pensioners who really drowned that day.

Meanwhile successive governments could not give any less of a shit. It’s called neoliberalism. Neo as in ‘new’ and liberalism as in ‘freedom’, meaning allowing economic freedom for the strong to do as they please and the weak to suffer what they must.

By all means fuck us over, but don’t try and pretend that this is glamorous. There aren’t enough tinsel town tits in heaven to detract from the fact that your grubby little paws have been fisting us. The tears in our eyes cannot blind us to where the pain is really coming from. One day when your fist is forcefully removed, you might find that the shit on your hands will not wash off.

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