Sociopaths #4: The investment banker on the lookout
So it all went a bit wrong. Apparently, lending vast sums of money to fund 200% mortgages to people who normally struggle to pick up their part of the tab in Nandos is not economically sound. The ‘public’ aren’t happy, RBS aren’t doling out obligatory pats on the back and portfolios are being hastily revised into bullet-pointed transferable key skills to avoid Monday morning breakfast meetings at the Job Centre.
However, a recession isn’t about being doleful on the dole – for JWP Hinton, shrewd single financier, it’s about putting your own personal portfolio out there. Specifically, getting out of the office, leaving Notting Hill on a Friday night and hooking it at the nearest house party. But before you start showering business cards and firming up closures, learn to SLUT like JWP.
S is for Singling Out. Forget what you know about Hedge Funds. Spread your bedding interests too wide and you’ll be no nearer to catching yourself a hottie, a hot night in or a follow-up fixture. You’ll be catching z’s on your parents sofa in Suffolk. To get the – or a – prize, you must at least appear interested, better still, be interested. Singling out requires shortlisting, swift action and sly lines. Get your criteria in order – as a rule of thumb, what you look for in a horse works well for a woman – teeth, hair, legs. All in order? Swift action then. Swoop in quickly before someone else does and crack out some sly lines. Tried and tested ones include; ‘I’m not looking for a hit but I’ll hit on you’ and ‘You look like I should know you’. Repeat ad nauseum until the object of your harassment doesn’t run away, isn’t already falling-down drunk and maintains vague eye contact.
L is for Looking Fly. Yes, of course your suits are pieces of genius. But it’s a house party, not a trading floor; women that you don’t have to pay for are by appointment only. Be strategic, adopt some strong key pieces that speak the subtext for you: flat cap to link back to the folks’ estate in Suffolk – pair this up with a Barbour jacket if you want her to know you’re just about to go shooting and you’re sure she’s not an Arts graduate with an obvious sense of compassion for small beasties. Jeans should fit and shouldn’t have an ironed crease down the middle. Ever. Accessorise with assorted, random badges that allude to knowledge of music or friends who front well known indie bands (get your sister to suggest ones that she likes if you really don’t have a clue).
U is for Unblinking Audacity. We live in a postmodern age of technological possibility but put aside the gadgets, gizmos and glossy magazine and you’ll understand that womenfolk are still suckers for a bit of hunter gatherer instinct. If you can’t be physically strong, fake it with some unbelievable slurs on the prowess of all other male company. On the offchance that you actually have any male friends, enlist them as your wingmen to affect some witty banter about nostalgic weekends when the partying was Bacchanal and your wit sharper than a rapier. In reality, you’re going to need to diminish the threat of other surrounding alphas. Barbed compliments – ‘you’re a great guy but you’re going to have to lose the estrogen if you’re going to get the girl’ – uttered within close radius of the ‘S’ shortlist ought to have you looking thoughtful, manly and worldywise pretty quickly, depending on how loud your voice is and whether the person whose manhood you’ve chosen to slur is wisely Beta enough not to knock you out right there. When Singling Out, emphasise how much shorter and weaker they are compared to your manly hulk (this works for the barbed reposte too but is far more likely to end in a fist-fight).
T is for Time to Get Gone. You’ve crashed into an upstairs room to find a few girls hanging out with a guy. Brilliant. Even better, you’ve managed to single one out with your ‘I’ll hit on you next’ hello before telling the guy with long hair that he’s good looking enough to get laid but he’s just not got the killer closing instinct. Excellent. But after telling your company your life story with extra emphasis on line of work, lineage and renumerative prospects, you find that the girl you’ve singled out is with the guy you’ve insulted. Okay, time to stand up and quickly assert your height over the girl to your left, moving closer for a potential pre-chat liplock. Shit, she’s gay, it’s her room and they’re all laughing at you. Tip: Have a taxi firm on speed dial.
SLUT is about timing and grafting if you’re to succeed without having to resort to developing a genuine personality with humility. And if it doesn’t work: grow your hair a bit longer, buy some vinyl and pretend you work in the media.
