2734 days ago
You may well remember my six part acid trip with scumbag a'hole dirty tricks specialist lawyers Pinsent Masons HERE. I had almost forgotten but last night I was sitting in Free Speech & Liberty Pizza when a white rabbit wandered in wearing a T-shirt saying "Chris Oil - Sefton's saviour". I looked up and the white rabbit handed me a sugar lump. Heck. Why not. I'd had a good day. Camkids was on its way to AIM casino death row so I said "thank you", forgot about my diabetes and swallowed. Shroooooooooooooooooooooooom.
2892 days ago
I remain convinced that the chances of Worthington (WRN) relisting are somewhere between no hope and Bob Hope but a hell of a lot closer to the former. But while we dance the charade that it may regain a listing the RNS statements it puts out beg ever odder questions, I am heading down a wormhole with the white rabbit as I try to follow what is going on in the great Worthington acid trip. Try following this for starters:
3459 days ago
The old man with the circle on his jumper threw his papers up in the air leaving the floor strewn with images of sheep in various states of undress. I picked up one picture of a well shaven ewe from Caerphilly and handed it back to him suggesting that she had been well fleeced. “A bit like shareholders in Sefton” piped up the Dormouse. The old man looked pained again.
“Infamy, infamy, they’ve all got it in for me” he uttered. “I used to be a top oil analyst in the City and now I have to spend my days being a non exec for shit little AIM companies, some of whom cannot even afford to pay me.”
“Here, have a piece of cake” said the dormouse
3470 days ago
Suddenly I was awake. I was back in real life. There were no dormice. No Mad Hatters. No white rabbits. And I was just wandering down from my Clerkenwell Rabbit Hole to the High Court on the Strand, documents in hand. I duly handed in my documents and some for Dan Levi and popped outside. Ahem said a small voice. I turned around and it was the Dormouse who offered me a small piece of cake. I was feeling rather peckish so gulped it down. Shrooooooooooooooooooooom.
Suddenly we were floating through the air over to Crown Place in the City of London the global headquarters of law firm Pinsent Masons. We floated through the door and were swept up to a plush but empty meeting room and hovered in the corner. Suddenly a team of well-fed lawyers wearing large top hats stormed in, dragging foxy Pinsents Partner Julie Herriot through the door by her hair.
“Why did you publish that memo on security of costs” screamed Russell Booker, acting in his capacity as legal counsel for Sefton, when not advising the litigation team, when not preparing to act as a witness against Sefton in the forthcoming trail. “Don’t you understand the idea of conflict of interest” he screamed, as he gulped a swig from a flask of smoking green liquid. Poor Julie was in tears.
“Hmmm”, I said to the dormouse, “do they realize they may have to stump up £275,000 which they have not got and so are fucked?”. “Sssssshhhhhh” said the Dormouse, “they can hear us!”
Indeed they could. The Mad Hatters looked up. “Cripes” thought I. But improvising hastily I announced “ we are the ghosts of Christmas past, we want to take you back to all those billings you have made to Sefton Resources for a case you could not win and which paid for your fucking great £2 million townhouses in Islington, please examine your consciences.”
In unison the Mad Hatters said “Do not use obscene language in our offices.”
“But he always uses the word fucking in his blogs” said the dormouse.
“Not fucking, that’s fine by us, but around here, conscience is a four letter word” chanted the Mad Hatters.
I could see I was getting nowhere fast. Noticing some sugar lumps with a strange topping sitting next to the coffee pot I swooped down and grabbed a couple and swallowed fast.
Shroooooooooooooom. The skies were marmalade, we floated past tangerine trees and we were back in the rabbit hole. Standing in the corner was an old man, gazing at pictures of sheep. He was wearing a jumper with a big circle on the front and had a vaguely persecuted look about him….
To be continued.
To read part 1 of my acid trip with Pinsent Masons click here
To read Part 2 of my acid trip with Pinsent Masons click here
To read Part 3 of my acid trip with Pinsent Masons click here