Musings, meanderings and mischief by Cyrus 'Sirius' Bozorgmehr


A little poem on the banality of banking 

Bull new

I’m Chief Exec of a bailed out wreck

Pensions fuelling my private jet

Suits hand tailored in Savile Row

And a bakery stocked with watermarked dough

My early years were a tad misspent

That embarrassing episode with a boy called Rent

But soon enough I regained focus

Honed some financial hocus pocus

But talent was never my greatest strength

Though I had a moistened tongue of staggering length

Instinct would guide me to a prosperous licking

And a certain satisfaction in a downward kicking


I rose through the ranks in the investment banks

Always careful to protect my flanks

And before I knew it I was head of desk

Gambling abstract amounts downright grotesque

Yet somehow we not only stayed afloat

But I ended up with a 100 foot boat

No one really questioned my work

And initially I thought that was a peculiar quirk

Yet soon I realised that was just a perk

Quaffed down vintage with a practised smirk

The financial world between you and me

Always remained a mystery


But the times were good in our gilded hood

And no one else really understood

There was a protective layer to prevent a care

Our affected flair deflected too close a glare

With scrutiny drunk on cash galore

Someone got too close and began to explore

We filmed them with an obliging whore

Showed their boss and they were out the door

As the markets continued their unlikely soar

Spending money became quite a chore


We honoured ourselves in epicurean style

Roared at such lascivious guile

And for all the world we were convinced

Even if the odd whistle blower occasionally winced

That this was truly for the greater good

Philanthropists indeed – only we could

And that unwashed scum who preached restraint

Rancid jealousy and endless complaint

Knew nothing of the modern way

And clearly snacked at the wrong buffet


And just before the numbers tanked

And we all got so spectacularly spanked

I left the world of banks behind

To master a business of another kind

Now I knew fuck all but did that matter?

Let’s face it, no, but I had the patter

But just before the golden shake

The bank begged me back with a hefty stake

The old CEO, the crafty snake

Had grasped the scale of institutional mistake


Now he needed someone to take the fall

While he parked his yacht off a coral atoll

And who fit the bill but jolly old me

Short on brains but ordered a fine Chablis

And off he went the polished crook

Leaving me firmly on the public hook

And when the scandal broke and the safe was bare

I realised grimly I should resort to prayer

The lynch mob loomed, ignominious disgrace

But the Treasury steamed in at breakneck pace


Too big to fail, we could take them down

Couldn’t cut us loose and let us drown

So while I took a barrage of flack

Behind the scenes I received a hefty whack

Of liquid cash and gilt edged bonds

Enough to fill a few duck ponds

And in six months time you’ll forget my name

A brief notoriety but what a gain


And if you call me evil you don’t understand

Never did anything officially underhand

Don’t blame me – I just went for the ride

Feel a little something for the queues outside

No mastermind me but mediocre

Somehow won this game of poker

But there’s a system there that corrupts at source

Never used force but no remorse

Profits and power will always be at core

With the ignorant masses to mind the store

And you might well say it’s a cabal perverse

I’d argue it’s an all too human curse

Cyrus Bozorgmehr 

First Published in LSD Magazine Issue 5 – Coming of Age

Image of  a Chen Wenling sculpture


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