Odey has upped the ante for poultry accommodation – he’s building a temple for his chickens for which the stone alone costs £130,000…The temple’s roof – adorned with an Anthemia statuette – will be fashioned in grey zinc; the pediments, cornice, architrave and frieze are in English oak; and the columns, pilasters and rusticated stone plinth are being hewn from finest grey Forest of Dean sandstone. Naturally, the doors will be painted in the Odey Asset Management founder’s favourite Hague Blue – “to match the doors around Eastbach Court”, according to the plans…“The temple will be a lovely place when it is finished at the end of the year,” Odey said from a grouse moor. “The chickens will be grand.”Telegraph, September 25, 2012

Early on in hedge fund manager Crispin Odey’s relationship with his chickens, he made them a promise, about the things he’d do to make them happy. “I’ll move heaven and earth,” he told them. “You’ll be the envy of all the other chickens in the UK. Anything you want, anything you desire, will be yours.” And while a lot of people make similar pledges at the beginning of romances, when things are all heady and you can’t bear to be apart for any period of time, Odey kept his word. By 2012, his chickens were leading the kind of life most fowl wouldn’t dare dream of. Still, there was one thing Odey hadn’t given them, one thing he hadn’t gone the extra mile for. The chickens kept their feelings to themselves for as long as possible and then one night, while they were all watching a documentary about the Taj Mahal, they couldn’t keep their feelings inside any longer.

“Is everything okay,” Odey asked cautiously. “Is something on your mind?”

“We’re fine,” the chickens said shortly, looking in the other direction.

“Okay but…you’ve barely said a word in the last hour.”

“We’re fine,” they said in the tone they used when you knew things were certainly not fine.

“Well, okay then,” Crispin told them, happy to take them at their word. “So today at work–”

“WHAT’S IT GOING TO TAKE FOR YOU TO BUILD US SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!” the chickens blurted out.

“What?? Something like what?” Crispin asked, visibly confused and scared.

“Like that,” they said, jumping up and pointing at the TV.

“The Taj Mahal?”

“YES, the Taj Mahal.”

“I, I…I don’t understa–”

“Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal as a way to honor his wife.”

“But she was dead and–”

“That’s not the point! The point is we live in a bloody coop and you don’t seem to have a problem with that.”

“I didn’t realize–”

“You didn’t realize? You didn’t realize how incredibly demeaning it is for us to leave the main house every night and retire to some shack? Is that how much you think of us?”

“Of course not! You know how I feel about you! You’re the greatest thing that ever happened to me and if I’d known you wanted me to build you something like this, I would’ve done it yesterday, I swear it!”

“Well then it sounds like you’ve got a lot to think about.”

“I’ll pay a visit to my architect first thing in the morning.”

“That’s certainly a start.”

The chickens got up to leave.

“You don’t want to stay the night?”

“Talk to us when you’ve got blueprints.”

“Got it. Right then.”

“Oh and darling? Our style is a bit more ‘Greek Temple’ than Mughal. Good night.”

25 comments (hidden to protect delicate sensibilities)
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Comments (25)

  1. Posted by Beerio | May 23, 2014 at 9:20 AM

    Matt sent me. Was not disappointed.

  2. Posted by guest | May 23, 2014 at 9:28 AM

    Ahem?

    -wilbur f

  3. Posted by guesticles | May 23, 2014 at 9:28 AM

    favorite kind of dealbreaker

  4. Posted by Confucius | May 23, 2014 at 9:39 AM

    True happiness can only be found at the chicken house.

  5. Posted by guest | May 23, 2014 at 9:40 AM

    when hedge fund managers, their pets, and Bess come together, magic happens.

  6. Posted by UBS Caveat quant | May 23, 2014 at 10:19 AM

    DB is like pizza or sex: the only bad DB is no DB. Caveat: I'm not sure if that includes Shazzaratastific, but whatever.

    Other than that, no concerns

  7. Posted by Guesto | May 23, 2014 at 10:38 AM

    A certain scene from a movie, set in Vermont, about a band of merry lawmakers and involving a portly fellow named Farva comes to mind…

  8. Posted by Bandersnatch | May 23, 2014 at 10:44 AM

    i think you mean Chicken Ranch
    – Guy just passing through La Grange, Tx

  9. Posted by guest | May 23, 2014 at 10:55 AM

    go on.

    -guy who has no idea what you're talking about

  10. Posted by Confucius | May 23, 2014 at 10:58 AM

    You dare correct Confucius?

  11. Posted by Bandersnatch | May 23, 2014 at 11:12 AM

    I'm not into that Eastern nonsense. As a Westerner, I believe in the holy trinity, separate but unseperable: Billy Gibbons, Dusty Hill and Frank Beard.

  12. Posted by guest | May 23, 2014 at 11:29 AM

    Super Troopers, bro

  13. Posted by Chick-fil-A | May 23, 2014 at 11:35 AM

    why are all the chicken pun-posters cooped up today?

  14. Posted by Rikers Inmate A20421 | May 23, 2014 at 11:36 AM

    Are you going to suck Jesus dick with that mouth?

  15. Posted by Guest | May 23, 2014 at 11:40 AM

    I like to imagine Odey will now spend his weekends leisurely leaning against his creation while wearing a double-breasted suit + pocket square

  16. Posted by TheJokeBriefer | May 23, 2014 at 11:43 AM

    Allow me to go "around the world" here in a "half and half" effort to assist Bandersnatch and Confucius.

    As Confucious famously once stated, "Woman who fly upside down have hairy crack up…" and in this case the bon mot of Bandersnatch may have appeared to do a ground loop to Confucious. We won't ever know if Confucious was referring to the famed Chicken Ranch in La Grange, TX, in 1973, when your Joke Briefer was but a young page at the Senate of the State of Texas in Austin. In that dark year, a reporter from Houston, TX went to LaGrange and discovered what every Aggie has known since 1888: Texas has a whorehouse in it! It was called the Chicken Ranch almost from the beginning because those seeking the attention of the soiled doves attending to certain needs at that location would often trade checkens for services. Your Joke Briefer is reminded of the famous punchline referring to a sexual miscommunication between a poultry purchasing investment banker and a farmer's wife that goes, "If you'll hold my cock and pullet, I'll scratch my ass!" But I digress.¹
    At this time your Joke Briefer must confess to making a visit to the Chicken Ranch. Following the sketchy directions given by a Senate warehouse employee, a carpool of frightened collegians made the tip from Austin to the south end of LaGrange, turned onto the gravel road and drove for a mile or more and came upon (pardon the expression) the aforementioned house of ill repute. We piled out of the car and went to the front door and were met by a hefty African American lady of age and experience who eyed us up and down and let us into "the parlor" where we were told to sit. It was interesting that there was a Department of Public Safety state trooper who was by the door and asked us if we were going to "behave" which we vigorously assured him that we were. There was a Greyhound tour bus in the parking lot as well and your Joke Briefer is not shitting you a pound about that! ² We were soon introduced to a lineup of 8 or so "practitioners" dressed in pant suits of the day's style who chatted among themselves as though we weren't there. Our experienced guide, a 20 year old ROTC student, told us we had to ask one of the ladies "for a date". To make a sordid story short, we had a choice of "the straight date", a "half and half" (I was so inexperienced I thought she was offering a coffee-style drink) or an "around the world" which was rumored to mean a lingual stop at a number of "locations" upon one's person. "Dates" were sought, fees were paid ($10, $15 and $20) we were taken to our rooms and peckers were washed by the practitioners and business was conducted. Then it was a long, guilty drive back to Austin while thinking of the misdeed under a bright Texas moon (pardon the expression again). Later, the Chicken Ranch was closed down as a result of Houston's Marvin Zindler and to this day the authors of Freakonomics attribute the rise in blindness among male students of Texas A&M University –starting in about 1975– to the closing of the Chicken Ranch. We must beat off the "dust of confusion" on the rug of Confucious' joke and while Bandersnatch weaved in a minor technical correction to it, the intent and purpose are to haul the ashes of jocular conflictorialality before summer becomes as hot as a four-story cat house on coupon night.

    Further readings and bibliography:
    1. "Investment Banker Becomes Farmer Jokes – 2007 to 2013" Lehman Press, page 1,204.

    2. "Times the Joke Briefer Has Shitted People a Pound", Spoor Press, page 45 (Abridged).

  17. Posted by guest | May 23, 2014 at 11:45 AM

    a hf manager and the pet he loves story from bess and a visit from the joke briefer? it's christmas in may!

    -legitimately excited guest

  18. Posted by guest | May 23, 2014 at 11:46 AM

    can't take credit for this (it's from an old odey post) but pretty sure the sentiment stands:

    I can't believe I have to draw this fucking chicken here.

    – Architect who drafted the blueprints

  19. Posted by Guest | May 23, 2014 at 11:47 AM

    There was slime in the ice machine…and vaginas

    -Marvin Zindler

  20. Posted by AAA Large | May 23, 2014 at 1:50 PM

    Eggcellent question

  21. Posted by Ex-DB | May 23, 2014 at 5:28 PM

    This has gone way too far into the "WTF?!?" territory

  22. Posted by guest | May 23, 2014 at 5:55 PM

    you're an idiot.

  23. Posted by guest | May 23, 2014 at 5:56 PM

    oh noes, what happens then?!?

    -scared guest

  24. Posted by Xenomorph | May 28, 2014 at 10:14 AM

    Bitch, toss my salad.

    I prefer syrup.

  25. Posted by Xenomorph | May 28, 2014 at 10:28 AM

    Get fucked, weirdo

    – ghost of LaGrange