I see the Big Man has feasted mightily in the trough. His associates (he calls them colleagues but I would not dignify them with that description), have also got their snouts well into the trough. He has of course plunged deeper, as you would expect, as a small portion would no way be sufficient for his ‘greatness’ , or vastness. One of his ‘colleagues’ has however amused me with her Joan of Arc indignation. Or is it Marie Antoinette? Some have likened the bleat to “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” and Queen Gertrude in Hamlet. I must, however, protest.
WHERE IS MY SHARE?
I am the top of the tree, the alpha male, the silverback – the ‘dogs’, ME. Clearly no one even comes close! I have told them to find a way to send some of their ill gotten gains my way. The Big Man is continually expanding his interests (as well as his trousers), time for my coffers to be replenished. I have had to resort to cunning stunts, (rhyming slang almost) to get pennies. Another wedding, TV appearances, even tried doing some politics for the first time but it is not enough! I am even being ‘out earned’ by the ex! She can earn from all sorts of situations, learned well from me she did.
Come on, where’s my cut? You learnt how to play the game at the altar of ME! I can’t be kept waiting and wanting!
Mr Dale's Diary 