The diarrhoea of a CEO

We wanted to extend our apologies to Diary of a CEO podcast host Steven Bartlett for our recent criticism of his role in the increasingly exploitative NFT industry, due to him soon after pledging £10,000 of funding to heroic social housing activist Kwajo Tweneboa.

So boundless is our magnanimity, we started to ask ourselves if we’d got Bartlett all wrong. Could he in fact be a misunderstood force for social justice? Then, the week after that, he helped to rehabilitate the image of Matt Hancock.

The decision to have the very recently disgraced former health secretary on The Diary of a CEO may be vulgar, but you can’t deny he complements its smorgasbord of past guests, who, in the most part – if we abandon our trademark magnanimity for just a moment – could feasibly be described as repulsive, preening narcissists.

We, of course, watched what no-one is calling Bartlett/Hancock so you don’t have to, and contrary to the dramatic trailer, learned nothing new about the most ridiculous dweeb of UK politics that we didn’t know in gratuitous detail already. He wore a roll-neck jumper, slurped down the viscous liquid of his host’s faecal meal replacement drink and peacefully regaled us with tales of Theresa May giving him a shot at being culture secretary, comfortable in the knowledge that Tories with far worse scandals and voting records have carved out lucrative media careers based on being captivatingly strange.

But this is the last time you’ll see us going on about Matt Hancock or Steven Bartlett. They’ve already saved more than enough money from living in our head rent-free, and Elon’s started complaining of Huel-stained bathroom walls. Tell it to Kwajo, mate. 

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