I love a hypocrite. Simply love them. They’re what satire was invented for. Yet everyone has the right to at times act in a mildly hypocritical manner. Paul Flowers just abused that right.
Who?
The man who lives his life in reverse. A bit like the Brad Pitt movie about Benjamin Button who was born ancient at got younger with time (true story… ish) and died as a little baby aged ninety-whatever.
Paul Flowers worked in a bank. So far so good. For years. Well, four years, after leaving school. So can’t imagine he had some hi-powered executive role, more probably spent his days counting out the coppers and filling in mortgage applications. In those days when mortgages were still available. And banks still had money to lend.
He left that job to become a Methodist minister. Ohhhh, that’s devotion. And a Right Reverend didst he become. As it is written. (in the Times it is anyway). A man of G-d. An upholder of the spiritual and eithical side of life. Which he used (one can hope) in his role as a councillor in Bradford.
Then he went back to banking, this time to head up the Co-operative bank. Which is royally (as well as spiritually, ethically and anything-else-ally) fucked. So just last week he was up before a parliamentary committee answering quetions as to ‘what happened’ at Co-op central.
His answers showed he didn’t really have much clue what was happening at his bank, other than ruination of a once fine institution. Though he did stress how on his watch he did always ensure that the fundamental ethical principles of the Co-op ideals were upheld. Yeah, right.
So now, at age 63, when he should be putting on his slippers and curling up in front of a fire to read Dickens, the Bible or the Methodist Handbook (I’m sure they have one), instead he goes out buying class A drugs and partying the night away at ‘gay orgies’. Which really he should have been doing in his teens and 20s instead of wasting all that time in churches.
Apparently its unbecoming for the head of a bank, for a ‘Reverend’ who once headed up a drugs charity, to be seen on film buying crystal meth, crack and ketamine from some dodgy geezer in the back of a car. Though he had little choice; they don’t sell it in Selfridges.
The time for drugs, orgies and shit is when you’re 23, not 63. Its part of the university syllabus.
At least he had the grace to apologise for doing ‘bad things’.
His punishment will come in heaven.
Though that may be preceded by another dose down here.

Happy monday

A xxxx