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Tuesday 11 December 2012
Will Jason Bryggs get a Christmas present from his employers?
Every time I was summoned to see the PM or the DPM, I was always taken directly to their offices. Never was I invited to meet either of them at one of the 9 restaurants or 19 bars dotted around the House of Commons and the House of Lords. I figured they didn't want to be seen with a common salesman. Maybe I'll suggest to them that, as it's Christmas, they might like to invite me for a festive drink. Worth a try. Especially as I'm helping them 'to get Britain moving again'....
Sunday 21 October 2012
Jason Bryggs' Potentially Biggest Sale.
It's
Saturday morning and I'm in the office thinking. I want to do
something big that will up the bonus substantially just in case
they're thinking of 'letting me go.' Nick's OK but I
don't like the look in the PM's eye when we meet.
How
do I do that? That is the question. I give it a lot of thought and
make a few calls. Then I e-mail Nick and tell him I'm ready to make
a power-point to him and the P.M. with an immediate sale idea that
will make a ton of money for the government, right now.
It's
ten o'clock in the morning and coffee time in the P.M.'s office.
He's wearing his usual shiny face although he's not looking very
happy. His pal, the Chancellor, is in attendance, also grave. I'll
swear he puts it on. Nick is also there. I set up the screen, take
a sip of revolting coffee, and say I can make £22.53 billion in two
months for them. Unfortunately the P.M. is looking out of the window
as I say the number.
"Can't
we get rid of those damned students?" he complains. "What
the hell is the Home Minister doing about it?" Nick is tapping
at his mobile and says,
"I'll
have them moved on."
"Good.
Pity we can't send them to Kabul. Right, Bryggs. What have you got
for us?"
So
I start again to power-point my idea to the P.M. This time I race
through it to avoid his being diverted again, knowing that his
attention span has been measured at eleven seconds. I have his
attention for longer than that, though, because I repeat I can make
£22.53 billion for the government in two months.
Of
course, such dosh doesn't come from selling any old asset. Oh no.
So I tell them what the asset is. Well, the P.M. doesn't seem to
like it. He freezes. I give a quick glance at the rinky-dink
chancellor - he's gone white. Nick is impassive. Then the P.M. says
quietly,
'Are
you out of your mind, Bryggs? Have you gone mad? Sell the House of
Commons! If that's the best you can do, you can get out now.' But
Nick intervenes.
'Prime
Minister. Perhaps we should ask Bryggs to expand on this proposal.'
'What
for? I've never heard of such a lunatic idea!'
'It's
a lot of money.'
'Good
God! Have you taken leave of your senses as well?'
'There
would be no need to let it become public news. And there is that
unavoidable payment coming up next week. Jason, would you tell us
your proposal again, in the simplest of terms?'
'With
pleasure,' I say. 'You sell the House of Commons to a buyer I have
identified and then lease it back. The buyer would pay £22.2
billion. Immediately. He would lease it back to you for a
peppercorn rent.'
Tuesday 2 October 2012
Nick Clegg is getting poor ratings at the moment, but here's what Jason Bryggs thinks of him...
I grew to
like Nick. He's not as stupid as the rest of them. Not difficult,
of course. And underneath that young-bloke exterior, he's pretty
savvy. It probably comes from his slew of weird European ancestors.
They were all aristocrats with castles – he even had a great uncle
in Russia who was clubbed to death by his own serfs when the
revolution came. No kidding. You may think he looks a bit glum most
of the time, but that means he's thinking. Probably about how he
could stop the P.M. staying P.M. after the next election?
Thursday 30 August 2012
Jason Bryggs introduces himself...
"I am employed by the British government. In an unusual job. Selling off anything that can raise a decent price for a government with an urgent need. The Prime Minister and the Deputy Prime Minister have decided that almost any of Great Britain’s assets, institutions, famous buildings, whatever, should be sold off to reduce the National Deficit, now galactic. Unfortunately, everything in sight has already been privatised or ‘re-engineered’ and they still have a shambles of a financial situation. But, hopefully, I’ll find stuff to sell nobody thought of. Not businesses of course, they’re private, and anyway most of them are foreign-owned now.
I’m not sure there’s going to be much job satisfaction with this assignment, but it will look good on my c.v. In any event, I’m the only one around with any real experience of this kind of stuff. Which I won’t go into right now.
At the final interview I was checked in to Number Ten and presented by a lackey to the P.M. and the D.P.M. (Deputy Prime Minister), both of them smiling. Then I discovered they were smiling at the person behind me, bringing in the tea. The P.M’s smooth, shining features assumed that false determined look that you see in all the newspapers,
‘Jason,’ said the P.M. ‘It seems you are the man for the job. Nick and I want you to have a go. Do you think you can do it - raise an awful lot of money for your country?’
‘It will certainly have my best shot, Prime Minister,’ I said.
‘Good. You will report to Nick here on everything. Nothing to be signed without his approval. Clear? Good. Then go to it.’
And go to it, I will. The salary is OK and the bonus possibilities appear to be limitless. And I get a Lexus limo, with driver. The only problem is that my contract is for one year maximum. I’m going to have to shuffle to get the max bonus in time."
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