Right? Luckiest consultants ever.
They are getting together twice a week at the swankiest spots in the UK absolutely baffled that this dumbass American is going to keep paying them a million dollars a month as long as this process drags out.
I had an inside man take notes on their latest get together at Circolo Popolare.
Edward: “Right then, Charles, this absolute wanker Linda’s been forking over positively extortionate fees for years so we’ll ‘assist’ her with this blasted application. D’you reckon we ought to finally get her a decision, old bean?”
Charles, delicately sipping his tea with pinky aloft:
“Get her a decision and put a stop to this rather dependable stream of dosh? Good heavens, Teddy — whatever would possess us to do a thing like that?!”
Edward, pulling a very heavy drag from a very expensive cigar:
"“But it’s been a solid two years now. These sorts of things don’t usually drag on like this. Don’t you suppose she might start to smell a rat?”
Charles:
"“Heavens, no — the woman’s thick as a brick for tolerating this faff for so long. In for a penny, in for a pound, eh? We’ll keep casting the line until the fish stops nibbling. Feed her some old tosh about everyone else taking just as long. We're the consultants, we would know. With a bit of luck, we can eke it out another year yet. A cool 750 thousand pound a month, my dear fellow!”
Edward gives his whiskey a satisfied swirl and peers over the rim of his bohemian crystal glass:
“One mustn’t rush these things. Paperwork, after all.”
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