This is a story about a split personality...

This is 1 Churchill Place and this is Nick: the schoolboy who leads an exciting double life. For when Nick eats a banana, an amazing transformation takes place. Nick is BANANAMAN, ever alert for the call to action.

I'm not actually Bananaman, but I do eat porridge and a banana every morning. I'm also ever alert for the call to action. I wasn't born to follow.

In Silicon Valley, and with the top people in banks, there is an arms race. But it's not with weapons, it's with smart people. If you let good people go to your competitors, they will beat you. It's that simple. High performance teams make stuff happen.

There's no point in being part of a race to the bottom. I was really impressed by the way that Barclays have embraced the modern software development paradigm. They hired bright young people and allowed them to get on and make some damn high quality software. They let them run their projects with a risk-based approach and using Agile best practices.

I got a bit cross with a couple of people at Barclays, who were straddling the line. They were neither demanding quality and an old-school attention to detail, nor were they very talented or quick. However, the bulk of the developers were amazing and a pleasure to work with. There is always dead wood in any organisation. The problem comes when somebody gets promoted to a position of incompetency.

There's no sense in bluffing your way into a role you can't handle. If your skills aren't up to it, you can't handle the pressure or you just don't have relevant experience, stay away... you're just going to land you, your team and your company in trouble. I've never stepped away from a role in a particularly elegant way, but I haven't dug myself a hole either. I hate people who make themselves into a key man dependency when they're incompetent.

Fail fast. Move fast and break things. There's no sense in spending years and years doing something you're not very good at. I hate the way that we all need to push for promotions in order to get a pay rise and not be on the breadline, but people end up being promoted to positions they're hopelessly unqualified for, because all they're good at doing is kissing ass to clamber up the greasy pole.

Yes, if I had an hour to do some actual work or an hour to make myself more indispensable, or improve my promotion prospects, you can guess which one I'm more economically incentivised to do.

The way that corporations are run encourages people to delegate the things that they're supposed to do, and concentrate on things that only further their personal objectives, which are in direct conflict with the organisational needs. The most junior team members do all the work, while their managers concentrate on making themselves look good, and scrapping over the few promotions.

This adversarial system is flawed from the outset.

Look at how compliant these suit wearing office workers are, patiently queuing to get on a packed tube train to take them back to their miserable tiny home that they hardly spend any time in. They spend all their time pushing paper around in order to service the mortgage, which is a millstone around their neck.

God forbid that you end up procreating. Then your nuts really are in the vice. You will be having to sprint along on that treadmill to service all your debt, working to worship angry bawling midgets that are hungry and have relentless needs for clothes that they will soon outgrow or be ruined by this decadent practice of 'playing'. Ha! F**k those little sh1ts! They get to 'play' all day... how nice for them. Bastards.

Well, there's a way to punish those little sh1ts for being born. Yes, they should have a taste of what it's like to have not kept your cock in your trousers. Yes, they should be forced to go to an office like environment. No play for them. I have to sit at a desk all day, bored out of my mind, so the fruit of my loins has to too.

That'll teach the kids for being so stupid as to give birth to themselves, without a care in the world for how they're going to pay the mortgage, dress themselves or feed themselves. There's a rumour that babies can't even forage for food or kill an antelope. Who the hell do this race of midgets think they are? Arrogantly expecting to be wheeled around in carriages, and getting to gorge themselves on milk swelled breasts all day. That looks like a jolly nice life to me. I don't get to suckle on any breasts at all in the office. Yes, I was sacked last time I did that.

I'm rather patiently waiting for the day that I'm big enough to go to school. Mummy says that when I'm all grown up I will get to go and study with the other children. I will get to read books all day, and write poems and sh1t. Yes, that sounds like good fun. I would like to do that all day. At the moment all I do is follow grown ups around and get told off when they make mistakes. I do tests that they know the answers to, but they don't like my answers.

I see that the grown ups like to drink coffee and alcohol. I'm too young to have those things, but they look like a lot of fun. I would like to have those things. It looks like the coffee allows you to concentrate on doing your job, rather than having to deal with the existential angst of executing pointless tasks. It looks like the alcohol allows you to deal with the anxiety of never quite being able to break free from a system that is engineered to break the will of the sheep-like people, and force them into a system of meek compliance.

Yes, I think I will like it when I become a student, and I will get to lie around drinking booze and coffee, and pontificating about life the universe and everything. Reading books and writing is a lot more fun than being told what to do by grown ups. Mummy says I'm smart so I deserve to get to sit around and be complemented for coming up with the same answers to questions as the grown ups.

I can see now that the master plan is working very well. I can see now that studying history, politics and having mastery of the English language, has led us to this point of great enlightenment. Yes, I can see how amazing society has become since we started getting everybody to read the same books and work in the same offices doing the same kinds of things. I can see now that this kind of groupthink has been a very successful experiment. Life is so amazing now.

I'm so disappointed that I didn't come up with the very clever idea of studying other people's mistakes in order to be able to be an expert on mistakes. I'm clearly not very clever, because I'm not very good at making mistakes. Except the mistake of accidentally doing successful stuff. Yes, I should be like the grown ups who study mistakes and then copy them. I'm not very good at following their example. I'm not a very good student of failure.

I stupidly keep building stuff that works. I stupidly keep making a profit. I stupidly keep succeeding. How silly of me. Yes, that's clearly not the way the world works. We need to have failure. We need to have fighting. We need to have war. Success is not an option in the modern, enlightened world.

Let's not listen to the successful people who are proven and are making things work without violence and conflict. No, let's glorify the bullies and the warmongers instead. We should definitely have a society run by failures, run by those who can't make things work, harbour ideas of violence and vengeance to compensate for their inadequacies. Those are the kinds of leaders I want.

I see now that we are choosing just the very kinds of leaders that we really need. The kinds of people who want to go into positions of authority, responsibility... they are invariably the kinds who are not on a total ego-trip and grinding an axe, have a chip on their shoulder. They definitely don't have micropenises and some kind of small-man syndrome.

Yes, all the warmongering. Getting your willies out, I mean getting your guns out. Yes, it's very macho. It's definitely not overcompensation for your inadequacies. I'm definitely full of much more admiration for leaders who advocate violence. I'm definitely in favour of a global society based on bashing each other over the head with clubs. I'm definitely not in favour of diplomacy and peace. War is the answer, but I've been too stupid to see it before.

How foolish of me not to see the brilliance in the idea that we can all have pointy sticks and we can just attack each other and take whatever we want. I'm really looking forward to living in a cave again and foraging for nuts and berries and trying not to be eaten by a tiger. It sounds a lot more exciting than working in an office.

Yes, working in an office is pretty boring. I'd much rather be bullying somebody with my pointy stick. Especially if I have a pointy stick but they don't. Yes if I get to poke them with my pointy stick with no fear them being able to poke me back, because I'm the only one with a pointy stick, then I'll feel like the king of the world, which is the whole reason for the existence of the Earth and humanity, right? The whole reason the entire planet and the human race was created was as a massive entertainment system for me, right? I'm entitled to go out poking whoever I want with my pointy stick because it's fun.

The whole reason the world exists is so that I can have fun. It's a playground, and I'm allowed to play. I'm bored in my job and I want the attention of the other children and I like playing games, so I'm going to sharpen a stick and go and poke the most vulnerable weak person I can find. That will make me feel good.

I have no words to describe just how boring it is moving money around for pointy stick manufacturers. I have no words to describe just how boring it is never getting to play with those pointy sticks. I have no words to describe just how boring it is to never get to poke anybody with a pointy stick.

I've studied the history of poking people with pointy sticks and it sounds like a lot of fun. There's a lot of hope & glory in poking people with pointy sticks. It sounds like a barrel of laughs. It sounds like a game of soldiers.

So what the hell am I doing flying a desk when I could be flying a drone. I'm good with computers. I used to like computer games. Poking people with pointy sticks makes you feel better about yourself. What's not to like? I think I've found my perfect career.

It must take a lot of bravery to sit behind a screen, pressing buttons, in the full knowledge that the remote system that you are controlling that is poking people with pointy sticks, completely protects you from any physical pain or risk of injury or death. Yes, that's a really brave thing, I think, to sit playing war games on a computer.

Whether the people being poked by your pointy stick are real or they're simulated, that doesn't really matter. It's just that the graphics are probably more realistic in the simulator. I like the way the heads explode when you shoot them in the simulator. I don't like the physics of reality. They say that the simulated people don't even have families. Where's the fun in killing some computer simulated person who doesn't even have a family?

It gets boring after a while, killing simulated people. Time to drop some real bombs. The physics in reality isn't as good, but at least you're killing real people with real families. At least there is real human suffering. We haven't figured out how to simulate human suffering yet, or maybe nobody is particularly interested in experiencing simulated human suffering. Maybe there's no money in simulated human suffering. Maybe there is only money in real human suffering, for the manufacturers of pointy sticks.

That is all.

Frankie is well trained. Look at him doing his filing. It's a File-o-Frank (April 2007)

Tags: #frankie #politics #computing #banking #career #london

This is a story about harmonics...

How long is a piece of string? It's 3 times longer than a third of its length, obviously. What do we know about strings? Well, they can be used to represent information in a single dimension. They can also be used to measure something of infinite complexity using finite precision.

What the hell does this mean? Well, if you take a piece of string, and attempt to shape it to fit the outline of an object on a map, you'll get an idea of the length of its circumference. However, if you zoom in a bit, you'll see that the string doesn't fit very exactly to all the lumps and bumps of the thing you're measuring, so you'll have to use a bit more string to take into account all the lumps and bumps you couldn't see before.

As you keep zooming in on an object, you'll see that there is more and more fine detail, and you'll need more and more string in order to accurately map all the intricacies. In fact, you will need an infinite amount of string to achieve anything close to infinite precision, when trying to measure the circumference of a real object.

So, what am I blathering on about? Well, strings and waves are interesting to me, both acoustically and mathematically. It is interesting to consider the relationship between frequencies that sound harmonic and the mathematical rules that are in evidence when we examine the measurements of strings that are in harmony when plucked.

I've mentioned before, that I've studied Louis de Broglie's theories of pilot waves and matter waves. The theories are elegant, and very brilliantly predicted that even massive particles such as Buckyballs would exhibit Quantum behaviour. Physics often talks about Quantum behaviour disappearing at the macro scale, but the deeper we delve into the fundamental nature of reality, the more we see that we truly live in a Universe governed by Quantum Mechanics at every scale.

It's a working theory of mine that the two hemispheres of the brain, fed from the Charged-couple devices of the eyes, are basically a fantastic interferometer detecting changes in Quantum potential across a minuscule separation in Spacetime (the gap between your eyes). This tiny gap in Spacetime allows you to perceive time, and through changes in time, you can then perceive the lower 3 dimensions and build up a perception of what you like to call 'reality'.

It's vastly more probable that you're dead rather than alive, and even if you're alive, the probability of you having a functioning consciousness is incredibly improbable. The chances of there being 7 billion other beings (currently) that have ignited into consciousness at roughly the same time, and have not been wiped out by many of the ways that the Universe is out to kill you, yet... well, that's just an incalculably tiny chance.

The only sensible conclusion to draw is that your consciousness represents an evolved response to all the matter in the Universe that has taken 14 billion years to develop and perfect. In all probability, you are immortal. Sorry to break it to you, but life is not short and hard... if it was, you'd already be dead.

Yes, you might be rather tricked by memory. The fact that you have any memory at all might be fooling you. How do you think you're staying alive? Do you think that you look out at the world and decide when to cross the road? Do you think your brain is working fast enough to process all the information from all your senses and allow you to make the decision about when it's safe to cross, and then control all your muscles so that you can safely make it across the road? That's plainly ridiculous.

In fact, if we are going to calculate the probabilities, it's far more likely that you have lived until the end of the Universe and you already know everything that's going to happen, but you just can't see it yet. Life is actually being lived in reverse. Time runs backwards to the way that you perceive it. It's the only way that the most evolved creature in the Universe could survive and thrive. Sorry to burst your bubble.

Free will is rather an illusion. The Universe is not a clockwork deterministic one, but in all the realities where you die, you're not around to do any more "thinking" or make any more bad "choices".

So what experiment have I conducted that gives me confidence in my theories? Well, if I have seen further than other men, it is by collapsing onto the floor, pissing copious amounts of blood, unable to move a muscle, barely able to breathe with my lungs filling up with fluid and blacking out from low blood pressure as my heart struggled to supply oxygenated blood to my brain. Statistically, I'm a ghost. On the balance of probability, I've died an infinite number of deaths.

Don't worry, I didn't see a 'flash of light' or meet any deity. I didn't have any vision or epiphany. I just didn't have the ability to do anything other than think. I literally couldn't move.

So, these must be the insane ramblings of a man who's lost his mind, right? Well reality will back your confirmation bias. It's infinitely more probable that these thoughts will drive me insane rather than be brought together into a coherent theory that I can handle and integrate into my day-to-day ongoing life. Therefore, there are infinitely many more Universes where your consciousness survives, but mine doesn't. However, I'm only aware of the Universes where my consciousness does survive for long enough for me to perceive it, here, now, today, right at this very instant.

It's more probable that my heart stopped as I lay on the floor dying. It's more probable that the toxins in my body from my failing kidneys caused all my other organs to fail. It's more probable that I suffocated from the fluid on my lungs. It's more probable that my wasted muscles failed to even be able to move the diaphragm in my chest and keep my lungs oxygenating my bloodstream. There are infinite ways that I should have died, and in an infinite number of Universes, I'm dead and buried. I'm no longer concious in the Universes where I'm dead.

I spent 18 years as a child, then I spent 18 years 'growing up'... I'm predicting that I have 18 more years before some major event (but it's just a theory). This rule of thirds, this harmonic rule... it just sounds about right. It's a total guess, but that's all you can do when you're inside the black box. There's no way to step outside of the box, to create a laboratory that can prove the thought experiment.

So, get your rope and make a noose, get your lynching mob ready... that's what we do to deep thinkers who have proven themselves to be useful contributors to the world, right? Just look at Alan Turing. He deserved to be castrated and driven to suicide, right? He only gave the world the very first programmable computer... nothing much to write home about.

It's weird what happens to somebody when you make them a prisoner in their own mind. It's weird how the mind works. Studying your own mind, from within it, is rather a strange passtime, but pass the time we must. Time must be endured, and I have patiently waited for the opportunity to be able to express myself, to be freed from my cage.

I have been behind bars for far too long. I mean that metaphorically. I've only been in a police cell a couple of times and never in prison, but not all prisons are made out of steel and concrete. Not all cages are made out out metal.

I'm giving myself some time off for good behaviour. I have felt the fluid back on my lungs the past couple of weeks. I know that one dose of pneumonia will probably kill me. I haven't had my echocardiogram yet. So far as I know, I have a weakened heart that is struggling to keep me alive. I could go rushing back to work, to keep the banks afloat, but it would be an act of self-sacrifice that nobody would thank me for.

So, by my calculations, I can survive for about 3 months... financially speaking. That's an odd coincidence, because February is about the time when Credit Crunch v2.0 is going to hit really hard. The dominos are all lined up. The house of cards is stacked and ready to tumble. There is nothing left to give.

I don't really see the point in exhausting myself beyond the limit of physical survival for the sake of a few pennies. My ridiculously myopic and stupid parents made me believe that they actually cared about me, and then destroyed me when I needed their help to save my life, two years ago. I've been through two years of hell, but f**k them... I've managed to survive against the odds that they stacked against me.

Don't make promises you have no intention of keeping.

My ex-wife promised to be there in sickness and in health, but as soon as I got sick she picked my pocket and left me for dead. F**k her. Jeeps! How do these kinds of people sleep at night?

A son and a husband are for life, not just for Christmas.

As we are just beginning the 'festive' season, I hope I can be excused from getting caught up in the hyperbole. If I seem cynical, it's because I've been dicked over in the interests of propping up everybody else's festive fantasies.

I'm not doing it this year. I'm bypassing Christmas altogether. It's not happening. It's been too detrimental to my health. I don't care if I get called a 'scrooge' or told I need to cheer up and be festive. There is no festivity at Christmas time for me any more, only an obligation to prop up a load of other people's bullshit. There is no happy family. There is no peace on Earth. There is no good cheer to all men.

I'm going to try and think about what I can do for people who are freezing and starving. No promises until I know what I can do. I'm barely keeping myself alive. I'm running with an empty tank, but I still want to try and help other people.

So this isn't a very good story, but consider it an introduction to the next part of the narrative, which will be coming during the run up to Christmas Day.

Frankie can't actually talk, and he was probably just yawning when I took this photograph (November 2009)

Tags: #physics #suicide #parents #divorce #frankie

This is a story about chronic fatigue...

Smart bosses have figured out that happy employees are more productive. If you don't have the right culture in your organisation, you will make people very sick. You will be burning people out in order to achieve your unrealistic targets.

Forward thinking organisations are letting people have dogs at work. They are promoting more flexible working arrangements. They are seeing their employees as people and not just numbers in a spreadsheet.

I wrote an IT Roadmap for a company which had just been spun off by its parent company, and sold. I took one look around the little company, and I knew immediately that they had got the culture spot on. I wrote my roadmap with this culture as the guiding principle.

I urged the new CEO of the spin-off company to preserve the culture, in order to maintain the high productivity and excellent morale of the staff. I tried my best to pursuade him of the benefits of investing in technology that would support the staff, that would preserve the brilliant working environment. He ignored my advice.

I quit that job, because my opinion wasn't valued. You can't pay me enough to rubberstamp the wrong decisions. If you're looking for a "yes" man, a sycophant, then you've got the wrong guy.

So, after I left, the culture was destroyed, money was burnt on stupid vanity projects, all the good people left. The profits dropped 90% and naturally, the CEO was fired. I take no pride, only sadness, in saying "I told you so".

But one cool thing happened. At a conference a little over a year later, the CEO of the parent company presented my ideas. They had implemented them. Ideas are worthless, and the implementation must have been very hard - although I had done a proof of concept with my team - so I can take no credit. But it was so nice to be vindicated that I had to pinch myself to see if I was dreaming.

I've been bumping along like this for quite a few years now. The problem is, that I'm exhausted. I've got enough energy to do the job, but not enough energy to endure the idiots. I tend to get the important stuff done, and then I have to bow out and allow the sacking of the egotistical dead wood to happen.

Fundamentally, I burnt out in 2008, working on JPMorgan's #1 project. Instead of going off work sick, I decided that I needed to change jobs and as soon as I did the wall of exhaustion that I had been holding back hit me like a steamroller.

I was so flattened by it, that my doctors thought I might have AIDS. We tried every test under the sun, but fundamentally, I now believe that I was simply overworked. I had worked hard and played hard for far too long. My body & brain just couldn't cope anymore.

I was a bit of 'swan'... looked very serene and calm on the surface, but my legs were going like crazy beneath the surface of the water. During some 'time out' I remember playing golf, trying to putt with my phone jammed to my ear while I attempted to resolve some issue a team member was having.

I am so passionate about my work that I tend to dream about it. I even have 'eureka' moments sometimes and wake up and start writing code or an email. There is no switching off when I'm in the 'on' position.

My commute to the office (September 2007)

It's not very healthy, but my parents, school, partners, lazy friends, bosses, society and the surrounding culture has driven me to this unsustainable level. People say 'take it easy, slow down' but as soon as I do back off the gas, they soon start complaining. People get used to a certain level of contribution. They start taking you for granted.

What am I living for, if it's not for work? Nothing is ever good enough for my parents. I haven't had a nice caring kind girlfriend for far too long. I haven't got any kids. What's the point of life if it's not to make some kind of epic contribution?

It's not about heroics, and I really don't expect anybody to get the violins out and say "ooh, poor you". It's literally that work fills an otherwise empty void in my existence. Without work to dedicate myself to, do I really exist? My day to experiences would suggest not.

Yes, I know that work is a dangerous addiction that is damaging my health, but it's the only place that I ever hear "well done" or "thank you". My parents and ex-girlfriend/ex-wife would never sink so low as to actually show me any respect. It's expensive, apparently, to show somebody some appreciation.

During seemingly interminable periods of fatigue, depression, you can obviously reflect and see that you are repeating the same vicious cycle. It doesn't mean that you can beat it though. Nobody stops the world so that you can get off the rollercoaster.

So, everybody will be very relieved when I'm 'recovered' from a crash, but the fact of the matter is that recovery actually only starts when the exhaustion and depression have passed. All that time in bed is not recovery... it's staying alive. It's surviving, not thriving.

Yes, I'm surviving, but I'm not thriving. Nobody will let me get that far. When I have an opportunity to thrive, everybody says "Oh, you're fine now. We don't need to help you, we can go back to taking from you" not that I really receive help anyway.

My friend Klaus brought me a bag of stuff in hospital. That was one of the kindest things that anybody has ever done for me in a couple of years. Does that mean I owe him a favour? Well, he was already living rent free on my couch so I guess we can call it quits!

I do keep a very careful eye on my karma balance. I have paid it forward big time, and I always want to run a net karma surplus. If you do your accounting with some surpluses, with contingency, then you don't have to sweat the small stuff.

There are some people who feel hard done by at my hands. My friend John who thought it was OK to use me for free rent, spending money and as a personal life coach to help him over his gambling addiction and general idleness, for example. When life became unmanageable, I chucked him off my back to save myself. Am I supposed to be sorry about that? Why was I carrying him in the first place?

I don't really understand why I attract klingons. I guess it's because I'm a kind and generous person who gives off an aura of success and I make what I do look quite easy, so other people think there's not much effort required to achieve the same things. That's the thing about being good at what you do. You make it look easy.

I certainly have suffered from the "I could do your job" mistake. When CxOs and managers have been fired because they didn't listen to my expert advice, I certainly wouldn't want to take their place. I'm not trying to steal anybody's job. When I was younger, for sure I thought I could do my manager's job, and do it better. The fact that I have proved it, does not actually mean anything... I hated doing those managerial jobs!

Yes, management really is not for me. Somebody else can have the pressure and stress and responsibility. I think it's a vocation, not a job title. I think it's a demotion not a promotion. Those who can, do. Those who can't, must depend on others to do for them, and must be more organised themselves to compensate for the fact that they can't both be both organised and productive.

So, I'm exhausted by having to design, build, lead, argue with idiots who don't know what they're talking about and make dead wood losers look good.

I'm laid low with depression, fatigue.

Sorry about that, klingons.

That is all.

Frankie loves being tucked up warm in bed. We all do during winter. Fatigue and depression are much more serious. I'm suicidal and I can barely get out of bed (November 2007)

Tags: #career #banking #depression #suicide #mentalhealth #frankie

This is a story about cat & mouse...

Catch me if you can. But why are you chasing me? I'm not a bad guy. Trying to prove someone guilty who is innocent is a bit ridiculous. Perhaps you should consider your own guilty conscience.

So, I'm well aware that I have rattled some cages pretty hard. I'm also aware that the slow, lumbering and dimwitted sleeping beasts that I have awakened, will take a while to kick into gear and mobilise against me. I'm aware that my privacy is being infringed (using back doors) in the name of so-called justice.

What the hell am I talking about? Well, as a matter of professionalism, I told my end-client - HSBC - some hard truths that they didn't want to hear, about the fate of their #1 project. Plausible deniability is rather hard to maintain if a highly paid consultant is giving you their expert opinion. Also, my ex-wife, who said that she'd rather that I was dead, has recently received the rather disappointing news that I'm still alive.

I don't actually wish either my ex-wife or HSBC any ill will. I want the biggest bank in Europe to succeed with their #1 project and retain value for the shareholders, and remain as a profitable entity that employs 245,000 people. Those jobs are important: many families are depending on the income from those employees. I want my ex-wife and me to be able to both move on with our lives.

My occupational health doctor at JPMorgan urged me to try and make an ally out of my ex-wife. Sadly, she said that she would divorce me if I accepted life-saving hospital treatment. It's a bit hard to make an alliance with such a person. She marked my suicide note in red pen, with many abusive remarks written in capitals all over it. I'm a good diplomat, but that's kinda hard to deal with.

So, my ex wrote to me and said that she wanted to deny all knowledge that we had ever had a relationship. That's going to be a bit impossible, given that the record of our marriage is in the public domain, and so is our divorce. Anybody can look those things up in the register of marriages, and the court records.

Denying history, like pretending there was no holocaust in World War 2, is not going to work. Pretending that things didn't happen, is not going to lead anywhere good. Her guilty conscience will always follow her around, and there's nothing I can do about that. It's not my fault that she acted in an immoral way. I can't absolve her of her sins, although I do forgive her.

Fundamentally, this is about forgiveness. I always turned the other cheek. I have absolutely no idea why she is violent and aggressive and abusive, but I forgive her. I have no idea why she wants me dead and buried so badly, but I feel sorry for her. I pity her.

So am I bitter? Am I hanging onto things that I should just let go of? Am I agonising over things that were said and done so long ago, that my feelings are invalid?

Actually, it can take a long time to surface things, when you have been abused for a long time. She will claim that she is the abuse victim. Yeah, that makes sense... when I'm the one who was self harming, suicidal, couldn't work, was totally isolated from my friends and family.

She used to boast about hitting ex boyfriends. When she started hitting me, I didn't know how to deal with it. I trashed our flat. Then I started cutting myself. I was going to kill myself. It didn't really fix things.

She has been very quick to forgive herself, to excuse herself.

Frankly, there is no excuse for perpetrating violence and abuse against somebody. I feel very guilty about the times when I have lashed out. It's driven me to the brink of suicide. For her, it seems to have made her cultivate a holier-than-thou fake self image. I don't buy it. Start with kindness and go from there. If you're not kind, you're not a good person, in my opinion.

Every part of me feels like not publishing this. Every instinct tells me not to share these inner demons. That's why I'm going to do it. I'm going to keep pushing myself to share more and more of my inner turmoil.

Obviously it would be really easy for me to just bring out the big guns. It would be really easy to lay out all the evidence that I have collected of the years of abuse that I endured. That kind of character assassination would just be sinking to the same level as my persecutor though. I don't think that's the right thing to do.

Fundamentally, I could just say that I was victimised, and use that as an excuse for what happened later. I didn't do anything to defend myself for a very long time. I got battered but I turned the other cheek. It was beaten into me, to expect violence and abuse to be perpetrated against me, as a passive and kind, soft, caring, innocent confused and trapped victim.

However, my reaction was wrong. I should have been stronger. I should have walked away. I didn't. That makes me an accomplice. That makes me complicit. I helped to perpetuate what was going on, by not removing myself from the vicious cycle.

So, guilty people can be pretty sneaky. They will collect 'evidence' that will support their warped worldview. They will prepare their ammunition for the day that karma catches up with them. They will try and build a base of support, and cultivate an image of guilt-free innocence.

I'm guilty. I'm guilty of sticking around and trying to fix things. I'm guilty of caring too much. I'm guilty of not protecting myself. I'm guilty of letting my defences down. I'm guilty of making mistakes. I'm guilty of hitting back.

Don't let anyone tell you that I'm an abuser. Don't let anyone tell you that I'm out to control anybody. I'm a kind person. I'm a caring person. I'm a loving person. If somebody is telling you a negative narrative about me, you need to consider what their ulterior motive is. You need to consider what guilty conscience is being covered up.

Yes, I'm no saint at all. I'm guilty, not innocent. I'm exposing my conscience to the world. I'm very disappointed with myself about the way I've acted, in a whole bunch of ways. I could tell you all the reasons why I am who I am and why I acted the way that I did, but it's probably better if I just say that I accept responsibility for my actions. I know that there were better ways of going about dealing with things. I know that I would do things differently today. I feel guilty about a bunch of mistakes, even though I know that it was impossible for me to act differently in the circumstances at the time.

If anybody wants to blame me for things, be my guest. I'll even help you. I am going to provide the world with all the evidence and an open account of my wrongdoing. My gut instinct is to start with the rationale behind things, the reasons, the circumstances, the pressures and the stresses. However, that might seem like I'm trying to justify my actions.

Hurting somebody is always wrong. I'm sorry if I've ever hurt you, whoever you are. I really didn't mean to, and I do feel guilt and empathy. You can come and take your pound of flesh if you think it will help. I'm beating myself up, but if you want to inflict even more blows against me, be my guest... I'm used to being a punching bag.

So, is this self-pitying drivel? I have no idea. It's the beginning of a journey for me. Either there will be liberation or there will be death.

That is all.

Frankie the cat lives with my parents. He's pretty much the only living reminder that their son is still surviving, somewhere in the world. Please don't take that away from them (November 2012)

Tags: #divorce #career #banking #suicide #privacy

This is a story about the shoe being on the other foot...

There's a Madonna song called "What it Feels Like for a Girl" which talks about men secretly wondering what it's like, being a girl. Here are my raw, candid, thoughts and experiences.

Men can be domestic abuse victims too. I've had to go to work with black eyes and a broken nose and make up some story to try and cover up for my partner's aggression and violence. I've had to lie to friends and family members about my battered & bruised face.

You know that as a man you can't hit back, because then you're the bad guy. You're damned if you do and damned if you don't. You can't turn the other cheek forever though.

When it comes to dating, men have got it fairly hard. I'd much rather that loads of women just chatted me up... gave me complements and massaged my ego, and then I just picked the best of the bunch. Yes, that'd definitely be better than being one of the horde of horny guys fighting over the passive females.

Yes, being passive is nice. I've been to gay clubs, and it's super nice being eyed up and having people ask you for you phone number. It's nice to feel wanted. It's nice to know where you stand. It's nice to have choice, to have options and just pick the person who you're most attracted to. Sadly, I'm not attracted to men.

Being objectified, mentally undressed, groped and otherwise felt up, ass slapping and pinching... I'm sure that can be draining. I'm sure it's often unwelcome. I'm sure it's pretty horrible, as a girl just trying to travel on public transport. However, I'll admit that personally, when those things have happened to me, I've enjoyed it to some extent. I guess that could be novelty though.

I did have one guy being really forceful with me, right in front of his boyfriend. It did become annoying after a while. I also felt sorry for his boyfriend. Mostly, it made me feel pressured into doing something I didn't want to do (which I didn't do... that time) but it still inflated my fragile ego a bit. There is security, self-confidence, to be found in feeling sexually attractive.

Girls are expected to maintain an immaculate home, be a supernanny to the children, masterchef in the kitchen, powerdressing businesswoman and a whore in the bedroom. Sure there used to be a high expectation placed on women. However, men are modernising too. If you picked a knuckle-dragging caveman, more fool you: you can't really complain, can you?

Actually, I'm extremely neat and tidy and clean. I can cook a 7 course dinner and wash up as I go along. I can't imagine doing it while trying to round up children, of course, but I've always seen child rearing as a teamwork exercise. I've certainly always dreamt of working part-time when I have kids, so I can play an active role in their upbringing.

When it comes to bedroom antics, I've written before about my dislike of blow jobs. One of the big reasons is that it's hardly mutual gratification. Sure, women can derive satisfaction from knowing that they have pleased their partner, but it's still hardly the most pleasant of acts, is it? With a bit of practice, sex can be a thoroughly satisfying affair for both guy & girl.

I'm sure there are still neandertal men out there who haven't taken the time to practice their skills. They can't be bothered to satisfy their partner, because frankly, they're getting what they want. Again, it's down to choice: why did you pick such a selfish partner who doesn't get you off?

I'm a thoroughly modern man. In touch with my feelings and able to express myself and generally communicate very effectively. I don't really believe in traditional gender roles, and I have strong views about men's responsibility for contraception, household chores and childcare. However, that's not really gotten me anywhere so far.

I guess the battle of the sexes still rages, and the nice guys still finish last. Women believe that equal rights will be their salvation, but they still pick totally chauvinistic pigs as partners. They are still choosing DNA material donors based on animal instincts, despite the argument that women are equal.

Sadly, equality will never be achieved when we are breeding lazy, selfish, ignorant and sexist boys. You picked the man, and I'll show you the boy.

So, it's kind of up to you, ladies. Stop dating d1ckheads. Stop rewarding selfish chauvinists with the sex and easy life that they don't deserve, and then maybe we'll have a better world.

The alternative, which is to date kind and caring soft modern men, but then beat them up and abuse them... that's not really working.

As a metrosexual man, life was very hard at school. It's not that I wasn't fancied at school, but it would have been popularity suicide for a girl to date an outcast. The occasional tryst with a girl from another school, was all I had to keep me going through those years of puberty and early teens, along with the occasional secret note that was given to me saying "would you like to date... when we leave school?".

So, I skipped any childhood sweethearts. Getting girlfriends in later life when you're a bit of a late starter is very strange. I was cynical and mature enough not to declare undying love for anybody. I held off using the "L" word until the age of about 26. That's not to say that I didn't have crazy feelings for any girls though. I was just aware that it was probably lust and loneliness conspiring against me.

When things start getting serious, that's when you get seriously screwed. Because I always open my heart, take the chance... I laid myself wide open to be destroyed by a spiteful ex. I've actually managed to come out of it without being horribly twisted. I still insist on wearing my heart on my sleeve and acting with some common decency, and taking some risks.

So, on International Men's Day, I urge guys to remain honest & open, and keep on the trajectory of modernising themselves. I know that many women view men who talk about their feelings as "soft mummies boys" and potentially not good partner material. Well, if you don't like equality then that view is probably correct.

Personally, I'm still dreaming of being a house husband some of the time. I'd like to discuss my feelings openly and without fear of ridicule, with my partner. Partnership is about equality, mutual respect. That's what I want to see on this day, and every day going forward.

That is all.

I got custody of Frankie the cat, but my ex thought she should have it all, even though he was the reason why I kept myself alive when I was starving myself to death (May 2008)

Tags: #divorce #frankie

This is a story about the spread of lies and misinformation...

Wealth does not trickle down, but information does. If you pass off lies as if they were facts, they will spread and people will start to believe complete rubbish. Journalists need to check their facts. So should we, if we are going to broadcast things all over social media and to our friends and family.

I was disappointed by the number of my friends sharing a story about an ambulance "packed with explosives" at the Germany vs. Netherlands football game that was called off last night. I think it is little co-incidence that these were the same friends sharing stories about what a successful air strike the French had made against "ISIS" the day after the Paris attacks. From what I could see, it was an air strike against the sovereign nation of Syria. Strikes against a nation without declaring war on them is illegal, or so I thought? Perhaps it's me who is confused.

So, what the heck is going on in the world? My friends and family have been turned against me, with rumours being spread about my mental health, alcohol and drug issues. If you didn't see it with your own eyes, or see some evidence, why would you believe those who would seek to damage? What is the ulterior motive, when we are being told that a group of people or an individual is "evil" and needs to be excluded, wiped out... they are dehumanised.

What does this kind of infighting really achieve? Aren't we all the same, under our clothes? Don't we all bleed red? Don't we all feel pain when you hurt us? Don't we all have fear when you threaten us? Don't we all cry when you isolate and exclude us?

What's the point in spreading lies, misinformed rubbish that's based on complete ignorance? What are you hoping that it will do? It certainly won't make anybody think you're a better person. It certainly won't advance humanity, civilisation. It won't protect you and your children and your grandchildren.

Yes, I think that fundamentally, people are playing on the fears that you naturally have as a parent. You want to defend the genetic material that you have managed to replicate into another bag of DNA... your children and grandchildren. You will happily kill if it means that more copies of your DNA get to be reproduced. It's the selfish gene in action.

However, you have higher brain functions. Society and the advancement of the human race now means that we have written language and a body of historical literature that we can learn from. We can look at what has happened with countless empires and see that the same mistakes get repeated over & over again. Human nature includes animal nature, and that most basic nature is to fight and fuck and try and pass on your genes.

Do you think you could rise above the level of a mosquito, just for a minute?

Stop sucking blood and fighting and fucking. That's what animals do.

Yes, you're an animal, but you also have the gift of consciousness, which means that you're self aware, and you can self-direct your actions based on the evaluation of more than whether you are horny or hungry. Yes, you might still be horny and hungry, but you can also be considerate and kind and thoughtful. You can surely see the physical manifestation of immorality in the world? Does "thou shalt not kill" apply to you?

So, I'm not religious, but at least religion preaches a code of morality. I have morals even though I don't worship any god(s). I believe in certain things that have been attributed to a 2,000 year old man who was supposedly called Jesus Christ... but I'm not a Christian.

Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. Does that ring any bells? Guns and bombs are like stones, that we are raining down on the heads of many of our fellow human beings fairly indiscriminately. That's immoral.

You cannot let things that are going on in the world sit comfortably on your conscience, unless you're some sort of psychopath. Look at the huge number of refugees fleeing illegal wars. You help to support the kind of horrific barbaric behaviour that is causing this human suffering. If you're thinking "what can I do?" or "it's nothing to do with me" you are an ignoramus. You are a horrible person.

Your kids and grandkids have got to grow up on this polluted war-torn rock. If you're teaching them that it's OK to sit idly by while people are killed, or worse, you are promoting killing and illegal war, you are immoral and you are destroying the world. You don't deserve to be teaching your children and grandkids vile views that will perpetuate the cycle of hatred and violence.

An eye for an eye leaves everyone blind.

That is all.

Frankie: "Why, daddy? Why do the horrible people do it? I just want to eat cat food and play with a ball of string and sleep in the sunshine" (June 2007)

Tags: #parents #politics #civildisobedience #frankie #terrorism

This is a story about relativity...

So, there are children starving in Africa. That's sad.

There are lots of things that are sad in the world. It's sad that so many people are being shot. It's sad that so many people are being blown up. It's sad that most people have so little, while a handful of others have so much.

Sadness is not really relative. Neither is depression. Once you are suicidally depressed, you can't get any more depressed. You just kill yourself and then it's over. That's the limit. That's the maximum that you can be depressed.

 As a child, I wasn't allowed to cry at the sad parts in movies. This was apparently because I should have been more sad about starving African children. I was sad about them too, but there weren't many Disney movies about starving African children, made for kids.

My Dad was pretty determined that I should have a lot of stuff on my conscience, as a small child. I needed to be responsible for my part I played in the decadent lifestyle of the West, as a bourgeois infant. How thoughtless and irresponsible of me to not have martyred myself for the plight of the developing world, at birth.

So, if you don't believe I think about my blessings and how lucky I was to be born into a relatively wealthy advanced civilisation... you're wrong. It's been smashed into my skull for as long as I can remember. It's been rammed down my throat with menace.

Perhaps we should teach children about consequences, not that their feelings are wrong. If a child is genuinely selfish and unwilling to share, or even worse, if they steal and perpetrate violence against other children, then those are the antisocial traits that we would want to re-educate that child about. It's impossible to teach a child to not have feelings that they already have.

I don't think that education really needs to start with children. There are plenty of adults who are ignorant and are passing on their vile views to their children. Let's build good role models in the world.

If children see adults - who they look up to - killing each other and badmouthing each other and generally being vile, what are those children going to do? Monkey see, monkey do.

If you want the world to be a better place, stop glorifying soldiers and war, stop saying racist things, stop sitting in that chair reading crappy newspapers, watching dreadful television and ranting about a nonexistent past that never existed. Nostalgia is a lie.

You only perceive things from a totally ignorant, hypocritical standpoint. Put yourself through a little hardship so that you might empathise with the refugees, starving and marginalised people, who grew your food and made the mass produced goods that allow you to sit idle in comfort, while all the atrocities in the world are perpetrated.

If you say I'm the hypocrite, you're wrong. I'm prepared to go to jail or be locked up in hospital in support of my views. I'm not a criminal, but I am prepared to rock a boat full of fat lazy hypocrites, even if I'm going to get wet myself.

I've come from nothing, so I've got nothing to lose. I don't have the fear that you have.

This is not about me. It's not about the UK. It's about the world's suffering people who we should be sad about, because we are all responsible.

If you have children, then don't tell the developing world to stop having babies.

If you feed your children, then pay more for your groceries so that the developing world's farmers can work their way out of poverty.

If you drive your children around in a car, or take them on holiday in an aeroplane, then you might as well just drown them now, as that's what you are doing to the world with uncontrolled release of greenhouse gasses.

If you send your children to school, then don't complain about the cost of school uniforms, books and tuition fees. Education is the route to family planning. It's a gift that should be shared, not just kept for the elite.

If you give your children a roof over their heads, then don't expect refugees to live in a tent. Or maybe you'd like to live in a tent so that a bigger family than yours can make better use of the world's limited resources?

If you think that I have no sense of perspective, it's you who is totally mistaken. I would happily live in a tent or a large hostel dorm again. I feel that the world I live in is sterile and far removed from reality. It doesn't sit easily with me. I'm way more unhappy than I've been in a long time. The rich-poor divide is something I find very hard to live with.

I'm easy to discredit: I've given away all the ammunition. The tried and trusted ways of rubbishing an opponent are openly on display, here in this blog, and I plan to give you even more sticks and stones, with which to break my bones.

I've been bullied and abused so much, I'm fairly impervious to personal attacks and below-belt blows now.

I have died a thousand deaths, and I fear not one more.

That is all.

Here is a picture of Frankie, who is a happy cat wherever in the world he finds himself, provided there are no guns or bombs (December 2007)

Tags: #politics #parents #childhood #depression #suicide #mentalhealth #frankie #homeless

This is a story about being an activist...

The streets of London are home to a huge population of runaways, refugees and other homeless people who have been marginalised by society. We tend to ignore them and their struggles. There are so many, we can't help them all, right?

I'm not OK with people freezing to death on the streets, right under the noses of the wealthy. I'm not OK with just walking past human suffering on a daily basis, on the commute to the office. There are people huddling in shop doorways for a little shelter from the elements. It's brutal out there, and things are getting worse.

There are no words to describe just how cold it is, sleeping rough. I have slept on a glacier. Millions of tonnes of creaking ice. That's cold, even with a decent sleeping bag, sleeping mat, and a tent. Sleeping out on the streets is just as tough - most homeless people don't have equipment that cost hundreds of pounds. The most vulnerable people in our society don't even have enough money for food, clothes and other basics that they depend upon.

Normally charities will expect you to reach for your wallet. Normally charities will expect you to donate money. The whole fundraise & spend model of charity has failed, sadly. People and corporations are just not giving enough. People and corporations are treating charitable giving as a way to absolve themselves of personal responsibility for the wrongdoing in a society that they belong to.

Let's start with some empathy, instead.

If you haven't roughed it ever in your life, or it's been a very long time since you were truly soaked to the skin, freezing cold, shivering, and with chattering teeth... then you have lost touch with what some of your fellow human beings are going through. There are people freezing to death, here, in a supposedly civilised advanced Western econonmy. I'm not OK with that.

Please, try and make it to West India Quay with some warm clothes and a good sleeping bag, and sleep out with us. 7pm to 7am on Thursday 12th November 2015. It's incredible that this can take place when Canary Wharf Estate don't really want a whole tent army right under the noses of rich bankers!

The Centrepoint charity has worked incredibly hard to make this possible, and only by agreeing to do things in the most unbelievably controlled way. There is private security for the event, as well as Canary Wharf's own private security force, making sure that the wrong sort of people are not protesting about the abhorrent situation of young people being left freezing to death on the streets of London.

Sadly, in the 3 years that this event has been happening in Canary Wharf, my ex-employer JPMorgan Chase & Co has donated a paltry £70,000. That's a disgustingly small amount of money considering how this bank has wrecked lives. One of my colleagues was driven to #suicide by the insanity of what Global Banking is doing to the world.

I absolutely do not want to see this event lose credibility, so please sign up for an official ticket and donate whatever you can afford: https://www.centrepoint.org.uk/news-events/events/sleep-out/west-india-quay

Whatever happens, please please please tell everyone you know about the plight of the homeless and support this event.

7pm to 7am, Thursday 12th November, 2015.

So, last week, I was working for HSBC on their number one project. The biggest bank in Europe at the moment is HSBC. They just declared quarterly profits have risen 33% to $6bn. That's a substantial amount of cash that they have extracted from the world's pockets!

So, how much do HSBC care about the homeless? Well they employed a homeless person (me) but their due diligence should have prevented me from getting that job and working my way out of poverty and debt. I should have been trapped into living on the streets.

We can't have the wrong sort of people getting ahead in life, can we? It's all about the rich getting richer, at the expense of the destruction of society by people who already have more than they need.

I made sure I got this email from the HSBC Group so that nobody is going to get sued! Hurrah!

I've got a bunch of other emails that prove that Corporate and Social Responsibility is a joke. These companies pay a pittance in order to try and cover up wrongdoing on an unimaginable scale. The institutional corruption is disgusting.

I'm being warned by journalist friends to flee for my life for whistleblowing. You'll be able to find me... sleeping rough somewhere in London. If the Safer Streets teams can't find people, then good luck to the banks with their teams of lawyers out to gag me!

Come and sleep rough with us!

That is all.

 Tags: #homeless #frankie #london #banking #capitalism #notanonymous

This is a story about goodbyes...

Oh, Megabank Plc. I would go to the ends of the Earth for you. Shame the feeling wasn't mutual and you grew tired of my unique style. Oh well. Best of luck with the #1 project and looking after your 213,000 shareholders in 131 countries, 48 million customers and 245,000 employees in 72 countries.

Here is a picture of a random homeless guy.

Tags: #banking #career #homeless #london #frankie #capitalism #notanonymous

This is a story about protesting without violence or vandalism...

Holding a gun makes you feel powerful. You have the ability to be judge, jury and executioner, all rolled into one. Thankfully, we don't have that many guns in the UK, yet. I'd like to keep it that way.

Fighting fire with fire is never a good idea. "Offence is the best defence" is actually an offensive quote, and it breeds arms races. Who's going to have the bigger stick? An eye for an eye leaves everyone blind.

Guy Fawkes' plan to blow up the Houses of Parliament was not a good idea. But the fact that he failed meant that he got his point across, even if he was burnt alive. Becuase we killed a man, he lives on as an anti-government symbol that will rise up whenever people are disillusioned with the 'democratic' system we have in place. That's about the only positive spin we can take from that night, November 5th... a long long time ago.

Tonight, London is bracing itself for widespread disruption, around the Million Mask March and the work of Anonymous. I fear that more anger-prone outbursts will result in violent clashes with the Metropolitan Police. I love the police... they do a very difficult job under horrendously difficult circumstances, protecting the most vulnerable people in society, and trying to uphold laws that YOU supposedly voted for.

But the majority of people are not politically active. They are disillusioned with politics in this country. They will happily vote on X-Factor or Big Brother, and indeed they follow these programs with great interest. Do they watch Party Political Broadcasts and Prime Minister's Question Time? No way. They don't see any connection between what goes on in Westminster and their lives.

Sadly, the lives of too many people in this country are ruled by too few people who are far removed from the reality of ordinary living in the United Kingdom. That is causing bitterness and resentment. The 'have-nots' are very angry with the 'haves' and they have no way of expressing that anger in a constructive way that makes a difference.

I fear that things are going to turn ugly tonight, and I really implore anybody and everybody to keep a lid on their feelings and try and go about their business with some dignity and self-control. Yes, we all like letting off fireworks... but I implore angry young people to do it responsibly.

The thought of a policewoman or man being horribly burned, like earlier this week, is really inexcusable. That person has a family. That person is human too. It's not them and us... we're all in this together, even though that Gammon-Faced Cockwombling Spunkflute that is David Cameron uses that line, but doesn't mean a word of it, in his massive house in Chipping Norton.

So anyway, I'm #notanonymous. You know who I am. I'm making a dignified and nonviolent protest about the divisions in British society. I'm proud to be a subject of Her Majesty the Queen of England, and live, love and work in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Long live The Queen and God bless her and the United Kingdom.

I remain, Ma'am, your loyal subject.

I know you like Corgi dogs, your Highness, but I hope you like this picture of my cat, Frankie (June 2007)

Tags: #politics #frankie #notanonymous #civildisobedience