Last week The Man called a special meeting of the CatAstrophe asset-relocation fund management committee and its charity foundation’s trustees. There was only one item on the agenda: Where do we go from here?
Present were himself, Diogenes, the banker buddy, Uncle Testosterone, Aunts Harmonium and Euphonium, and Madam Moonbeam, the renowned West-Coast astrologer and all-seeing mystic oracle.
It quickly became apparent that the only thing on The Man’s mind were his political ambitions—getting elected to the provincial council as the first step towards a safe seat in parliament.
And to make no bones about it, he said, this will involve a lot of reputation laundering. It will also mean realigning CatAstrophe away from asset-relocation and towards its ostensible good-cause activities. Of which up to now there have been—and let’s not mince words— precisely none.
So I’m depending on you, he said, turning to Aunt Harmonium, to lead the charge with your dog-bite court case in the name of women’s rights, which will be front and centre of my election campaign.
With a bit of embellishment we can make it a national cause célèbre that will hopefully get senior government movers and shakers on board. So how goes it? What’s the state of play?
Well, said Aunt Harmonium, according to my lawyer, my neighbour has been advised by his lawyer to admit liability without prejudice and settle out of court for damages to be agreed plus costs, which means that…
Whoa, said The Man, no no no, absolutely not! We want this case to go to court with maximum possible publicity! Frontpage and prime-time TV coverage, with you showing your scars and tearfully saying how you couldn’t have got through the whole horrendous ordeal without my unwavering encouragement and support!
Thus when we’re interviewed by a sympathetic media—and we will be because I’ve already arranged it—you can stress that with the country in dire straits and everyone demanding change, now is the time for women to stand up for their rights, with you as standard bearer and me four-square behind you! A sure-fire vote winner!
He looked around the table. In the meantime, he said, we’ll be winding down the asset-relocation business, and I’m assuming none of you has any objections. This is a flinty tone of voice that clearly implied they’d better not have.
But Diogenes was undeterred. Helping get you elected is all very well and a good cause for you, he said, but what about the rest of us? What about our trustee stipends with no money coming in? How are we supposed to manage?
The Man gave him a full-on stare. In these febrile times, he said, I— we—can’t afford to be linked to anything that smacks of illicit activities, and neither can any of our business associates.
However, after the elections, and the dust has settled, things will get back to normal. There will likely be even more demand for our services. And those same business associates will be generously contributing to my election campaign, so don’t worry, you’ll all be taken care of.
He turned to Madam Moonbeam. So what do you see in your crystal ball, he asked. What are the signs?
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Fear not, she said, for when the moon is in the seventh house, and Jupiter aligns with Mars, a new golden age of prosperity will dawn