Today was a Bank Holiday in the UK. In accordance with economic events over the past 3 years or so, a lobby has been established for consideration of a name change on such future suspensions of work, to Bastard Holidays.
The Bastard...sorry, Bank Holiday, dates back to an Act of 1871 when Henry James Earl decided to take the first Monday in May off work, thus closing his Bank to the public. Others of his fellow Bankers followed suit and hey presto, another feather in the cap for the lazy arseholes charter was established.
Seriously, when you think about it, what the fuck do these halfwits do, that demands so many official Holidays? Admittedly, making a gigantic contribution to fucking up the global economy, is sure to take it out of you. All those afternoon small business meetings with their, 'yes I know we said you could count on us for unflinching assistance with your generally successful business, but that was when you called this morning' , must make for more than the odd dash to the lacquered mahogany 'drinkies' cabinet in the boardroom, for a swift Pimms, to calm those frayed edges. The shattering blow delivered by the realization that ones declining bonus could result in the yacht being bought 'off the peg', rather than custom built...oh the shame. How can one amusingly moon at ones chums from a mere 40 metre toy boat. Yeh, life's a beach, baby.
But hang on people. The Banks are an easy hit. Don't get me wrong, they 100% deserve to be treated like something nasty on the bottom of your shoe. But...let's face it, General Joe Public doesn't come out of this smelling of Chanel No.5. Our penchant for a bit of largesse meant that we allowed ourselves to be led Pied Piper style, into the land where tomorrow never comes.The land of gravity defying house prices, debts that 'never, never' get paid off and Banks being the gift that just keeps giving. Yeh, right. How fucking stupid are we? Banks called the tune and we did the Morris dancing.
So, what can anyone who may have the ability (dosh!) to plan finances, learn from this pile of horseshit? (I don't mean my blog...it's obviously superb).
#1 Don't go to any Bank for financial advice. Both RBOS and BOS have been fined more than £6m in the last year for flogging crap and non-relevant retail investments to their customers. They are without question, the greediest of the greedy. The Banks are a huge part of our global ills and having palpably displayed their avarice and incompetence, why anyone (other than someone who buys Opal Fruits because it contributes to their 5-a-day fruit&veg portion) would trust them with anything other than a simple, straightforward Bank account, leaves me mystified. History folks, history!!
#2 Don't trust 'financial experts/advisers', unless they can demonstrate a decent track record of fiscal probity and talk to you in a language you can understand.
#3 Don't be so fucking greedy. If you have a little stash, be grateful. Many's the person who invested a large fortune and ended up with a small fortune in return! That smooth talking prick phoning from above a Dutch knocking shop, with promises of wealth beyond the dreams of avarice, investing in specialist shares of which little is known (principally 'cos they don't exist) is indeed a Grade A wanker.
#4 Bert the Butcher is not a financial expert... (my mate the plumber told me about this share...). If he tells you to invest in anything other than pork chops, change your butcher.
And for those who have zippo to invest and struggle with mortgages, food, hell just basically living...die young!!
Anyhoo, as the old song goes, 'always leave them laughing'(when you say goodbye)...
A guy walks into the Bank and says to the teller, ' I want to open a fuckin' current account.' The teller says, I beg your pardon, sir?' to which he replies,' look damn it, I want to open a fuckin' current account right now!' The teller says, 'Sir i'm sorry but we don't tolerate such foul language in this Bank' and she calls over the Manager. 'What seems to be the problem here Sir?' says the Manager. 'Look' says the bloke, 'there's no fuckin' problem. I just won 50 million quid in the Lottery and I want to open a fuckin' current account in this shithole Bank!' 'I see Sir', says the Manager 'and this bitch is giving you a hard time?'
Hey ho. I'm off to watch Clint rob the Bank at El Paso again...
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