You can be a famous poisoner or a successful poisoner, but not

Host: The soft glow of streetlights outside cuts through the dark evening, casting long shadows on the walls of a small, dimly lit bar. The sound of ice clinking against glass and the quiet hum of a conversation are all that fills the room. Jack and Jeeny sit across from each other, their drinks resting untouched, as they lean in to discuss the quote that has just been laid on the table.

Jeeny tilts her head slightly, musing on the words.

Jeeny: “Clive Anderson’s right, in a way. You can be successful or famous, but trying to be both is dangerous. Take the Great Train Robbers — they made history with their heist, but their fame came at a cost. The moment they were discovered, the game was over. You can’t steal that much and expect to come out clean. The more famous you get, the harder it is to keep your hands clean.”

Jack: “That’s the thing, though, Jeeny. Fame isn’t what makes you successful, it’s what comes after. You can pull off a great heist or a criminal act, but the fame makes everything harder. Look at the famous criminals — they self-destruct. It’s like they want the publicity, but in doing so, they destroy their own success. The Great Train Robbers were never really free once the spotlight hit them.”

Host: The air between them is charged, as the sound of the wind outside mixes with their heated words. Jack’s voice carries a sense of urgency, while Jeeny’s tone remains more measured, as though she’s piecing together a puzzle.

Jeeny: “I agree with you that fame complicates things, but it’s more than just about exposure. Success in a criminal act — especially something like the Great Train Robbery — means planning, precision, and keeping a low profile. It’s the ones who stay under the radar that succeed. Fame is an unneeded risk. Once the world knows who you are, you’ve lost the ability to control your own destiny.”

Jack: “But what if the fame is the point? What if it’s not just about getting away with it, but about making your mark, becoming a legend? For some people, success isn’t just in the act itself, it’s in the glory that comes with it. The Great Train Robbers weren’t just after money — they wanted to go down in history, be remembered. But the problem is, once you’re famous, it’s impossible to disappear again.”

Jeeny: “And therein lies the trap, Jack. Fame might be part of their dream, but it’s also their downfall. The most successful criminals are the ones who aren’t trying to be famous. Look at people like the Unabomber, who operated quietly for years. It’s the ones who hide in the shadows that really succeed — not the ones who want their names in headlines. You can be famous, or you can be successful, but trying to be both means you’re asking for trouble.”

Host: The sound of their voices rises just a bit as they exchange their ideas, their words sparking something between them. Jack shifts, leaning back in his chair, his expression softened as Jeeny continues to speak.

Jack: “But what if you want both? Fame and success. Maybe it’s a gamble that’s worth it to some people. If the train robbers had succeeded in staying hidden, maybe they would have gone down as heroes. Maybe they would’ve been immortalized in history. There’s something alluring about the idea of pulling off the perfect crime and walking away with the fame to back it up.”

Jeeny: “But that’s the thing, Jack. No crime is ever perfect, and no one walks away clean. The more fame you get, the more eyes are on you. The more people are looking for your mistakes, your flaws. And success — true success — doesn’t need to be marked by a flashy name. The true successful ones are the ones who escape, who stay out of the limelight. The Great Train Robbers could’ve been more successful if they hadn’t craved the spotlight. Their fame is what got them caught.”

Host: There’s a shift in the energy of the room. The conversation has reached an intense pitch, but now, the words feel less like a debate and more like an exploration. Jeeny and Jack sit in silence for a moment, each considering the other’s point.

Jack: “So you’re saying the Great Train Robbers could have pulled it off if they hadn’t gone for fame? That their success would’ve been complete if they’d just kept their heads down?”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Fame doesn’t guarantee success — it’s the opposite. It compromises your ability to continue. Success is in the shadows, in quiet triumphs. Fame is for the ones who want to be remembered. But in the end, the successful ones are the ones no one knows about.”

Host: The bar feels quieter now, as if the weight of their words has absorbed the energy from the room. The city lights flicker outside, casting a soft glow through the window. The Great Train Robbers are legends, remembered by many, but not because they succeeded in escaping — but because they craved the fame that eventually led to their downfall. The tension between fame and success remains suspended in the air between Jack and Jeeny, an unresolved question hanging like a shadow.

Jack: “So, in the end, they were neither famous nor successful. They were caught in the trap of wanting both.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Fame is fleeting, but true success — the kind that lasts — comes from remaining unseen.”

Host: The sound of the street outside grows fainter as their conversation settles, both understanding that, in some ways, the desire for recognition can be the thing that ensures failure. In the quiet of the bar, the complexities of success and fame feel both clear and elusive, like an answer just out of reach.