Stephen Hester writes:
I wish I’d never taken the bloody job in the first place. If I’d known that saving the biggest bank in the country would make me public enemy no 1, you wouldn’t have seen me for dust.
Bad enough that the maximum bonus to which I am entitled this year should be limited to a paltry couple of million, but Cameron had to play to the gallery and limit it to less than 50% of last year’s. So I’m to get £968,000 - huh, I don’t get out of bed for that kind of money.
And, now, that bastard Hampton has announced that he’ll give up his own bonus. I do all the work and my snivelling coward of a chairman decides to pander to the Daily Mail, thus making me look even more like a money-grubbing bloated capitalist.
I tell you, it’s more than a banker can bear. Well stuff them all. I’ll give them another three months and then quietly resign. They can search for some other patsy (if they can find one) to take the reins. And I’ll sell all my RBS shares, because inevitably it’s destined for the knacker’s yard.