So that bloke, what's his name, haven't seen him in ages.
You know? That bloke, the one with the eyebrows, he's supposed to be Chancellor of the something or other.
Anyhow, him, he went on to the TV this morning with Andrew Marr, (the one with the mad waving arms and who isn't David Frost) and he said, quite startlingly, that perhaps all these bankers shouldn't get fucking enormous bonuses any more, what with them making an absolute balls up of everything and being paid from the public purse and all. I think he went on to say that the ice cream he had for pudding last night was quite cold, and that the glass of orange juice on the table in front of him this morning was a glorious orange colour.
So having spent the morning stating the bleeding obvious, the bankers have been hitting back all day. There's been the threat that has been hanging over us all since before it all went tits-up, tax us and we'll piss off, don't pay us our bonuses and we'll piss off, stop us appearing on rolling news coverage wearing ridiculous shirts with stupid cravats or bowties and we'll piss off.
'We can't afford to lose this talent.' They'll bleat.
'Oh no, please don't go,' say I, 'I mean, you've done such a great job, everything's run so well, and with your proven track record, I'm sure if you did run away to New York, Frankfurt or Tokyo there'd be legions of investment banks wanting to take you on, because they've all got so much money right now.'
Let's call the fuckers' bluffs, let's employ a load of front counter staff to do their job, they really couldn't do any worse.
And what's more, what is with all this bonus shit anyway? Firstly, you ruin everything and expect a bonus for it? Are you crazy? Even if it goes right you still shouldn't get a bonus, it's the bloody job you're paid to do for crying out loud.
Go on, piss off, the bloody lot of you, your greed, avarice and incompetence has enslaved an entire generation, doomed to pay the price for your preening. A bonus? Come round my place mate, I'll give you a bonus, I'll kick you so hard between the legs that your bollocks will come flying out of your ears.