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 Anyway, a [[depth charge]]: That critical deal approval committee has turned into a shit-show. The presenter — a junior on the deal team, hoping forlornly for a promotion he will never now get — is unprepared, transparently does not understand {{sex|his}} deal and, to boot<ref>''Das Boot'', needless to say.</ref>, has committed that mortal error of not warming up the [[Control function|controller group]] who are due to hear {{sex|his}} application. Further, the guy from Treasury legal, cantankerous on a good day, got out the wrong side of bed this morning and is of a mood to make an example out of young sir in front of his superiors.
-The young fellow proceeds and, in the face of the most innocuous questioning from [[Compliance]], limply descends into a stuttering chaos of implausible suppositions and patent fabrications, punctuated by awkward pauses during the last of which a distant voice is picked up an a someone’s microphone — whose, we cannot say<ref>This is getting harder to mask in the age of [[Skype problems|Skype]], sadly.</ref>. The voice is quiet, but clear, and sounding as though it has come from a mouth turned from the handset in a tone of surreptition, says:
+The young fellow proceeds and, in the face of the most innocuous questioning from [[Compliance]], limply descends into a stuttering chaos of implausible suppositions and patent fabrications, punctuated by awkward pauses during the last of which a distant voice is picked up an a someone’s microphone — whose, we cannot say<ref>This is getting harder to mask in the age of [[Skype problems|Skype]], sadly.</ref>. The voice is quiet, but clear, and sounding as though it has come from a mouth turned from the handset in a tone of surreptition.
-“Man this deal is a piece of shit.”
+It says: “Man this deal is a piece of shit.”
-Sir Jerrold Baxter-Morley, [[Managing director|MD]] of the deal team, wakes up and explodes in a beetroot-faced, eye-bulging squawk of indignance: this is his deal, for his old Eton school-chum Buffer Montague, now a restaurateur and sometime [[introducing broker]] in the Middle East.
+Sir Jerrold Baxter-Morley, [[Managing director|MD]] of the deal team, who till this point has been googling real estate in St. Moritz, wakes up and explodes in a beetroot-faced, bulge-eyed squawk of outrage: this is his deal, he’s in it for his client and old Eton school-chum Buffer Montague, now a restaurateur and sometime [[introducing broker]] in the Middle East.
 “Who said that? WHO SAID THAT!?”
-But there is no reply, just another awkward pause. But, by means of something that may have been serendipitous background dealing-floor banter, the damage is done. The remark has articulated only what every controller was quietly thinking, and it fortifies them in their opposition.
+But there is no reply: just another awkward pause. But, by means of something that, all will later protest, may have been serendipitous background dealing-floor banter, the damage is done. The remark has articulated only what every controller was quietly thinking, and it fortifies them in their opposition.  The deal is destined for a watery grave, thousands of leagues below the mid-Atlantic shipping channel it was meant to finance.
 {{seealso}}