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TmarTn, then. What a character, eh? What a lad. What a f***ing geezer. If I had to pick one person to be, it wouldn’t be David Beckham or The Rock or Beyonce or Alain Delon but before he melted: it would be TmarTn. What a player. What a chief. The boss. He should have called himself Beast Mode, for that is what he really is.
Not really, of course. Why? Because TmarTn is, it seems, in Very Deep S***. TmarTn is not just up s*** creek without a paddle: s*** creek without a paddle is Longleat Centre Parcs compared to this. He’s in an ocean of s***, a transatlantic-sized vat of s***: he is the Titanic and he is about to run into an iceberg of s***. It’s not looking good.
Legally, certain lawyer-ly people reckon that he and Syndicate and some of the other boys at the heart of this thing are in trouble, but we’ll cross that bridge when we’re running over it chased by the FTC and ex-fans. Regardless of that, the damage done to Brand TmarTn is likely to be huge, and potentially cataclysmic. And he’s making it worse every single day. He’s posting and deleting apology/excuse videos so often you’d think he’s got YouTube confused with Snapchat.
This is, I think, one of the main problems with the whole TmarTn thing. He keeps making the same mistake – using his dog Cooper as a prop to make people feel sorry for him, insisting this was all public when he previously said it wasn’t, showing off his massive, massive house while he’s doing it – when what people actually want is an apology. A proper one, not one of the sorry-if-you-were-offended-type ones he’s wheeling out, or sorry-if-you-didn’t-read-those-incorporation-documents, mate, it’s all there, learn to read yeah? Doing so may incriminate him further, I suppose, but he already seems fairly incriminated.
Anyway, the point of all this nonsense is that TmarTn has made some mistakes (to put it verrrrrrrrrrrry kindly) and now he’s making loads more, compounding the problem. Syndicate has said very little since this all blew up – bar some laughable chat about “transparency from here on out” – while Trevor has made claim and counterclaim and video after video, none of which make him look anything other than a lying conman, regardless of what has actually happened. Syndicate, ironically for a man who can’t f***ing shut up, at least understands the virtue of silence here. For a man with a huge and engaged audience, one which he often proclaims to love, TmarTn sure doesn’t seem to understand them.
So what comes next? With this one, the answer is surely ‘who knows?’ Maybe it’ll emerge that TmarTn isn’t even real, but a collective nightmare we were all having. Maybe he’ll run off to Africa. Maybe he’ll get plastic surgery, like Michael Knight. Maybe Syndicate will soon be hanging out with Lord Lucan. The only thing we can be sure of is that, at points during TmarTn’s many attempts at deflection and manipulation, you get to see a glimpse at the person behind the mask – that mask being one that has an eerie resemblance to a Virtua Fighter Kids version of the bad guy from Die Hard 2 – and you can see, I think, that he takes on the frightened look of a young man in far too deep, one that doesn’t have a clue how he got here, or what to do next.
