Some of my superior species seem to have attracted bad press in recent years. I was just telling my human credit card that I couldn’t understand why, when they drew my attention to a few uncomfortable truths, that some unsavoury characters leading the financial industry have been frequently referred to as fat cats… clearly not eating out of my bowl!!
[Pictures downloaded from internet search ‘images of fat cat bankers’]:
Economic disaster, casino banking, double-dip recession… the language of our day-to-day transactions has been transformed by a few people doing something to a mouse that hardly seems worth getting out of bed for:
The majority of the reasonable population goes into spasms of indignation, demanding these cats be cut down to size. Yet they even seize on our well-known sense of nonchalance, claiming that any threat to their power and wealth will be met with the wholesale departure of talent overseas.
Talent! Talent? Seems to me that anyone whose main talent is to screw everything up for everyone else is better off overseas… any contributions to the one-way tickets should be sent to my accountant for payment into the ‘I wouldn’t mind becoming a fat cat‘ account.
I do smile each time I hear a government representative boasting about all they have done to get our slick-suited armageddon merchants helping the honest trades-folk of Broke PLC, when the usual response received to a cap-in-hand request goes something like this:
Even more impressive was the recent tactic in the City of London of creating buildings that can set fire to the ordinary peoples’ attempts to scrape a livelihood. While the casino bankers relax in the richest sun-belts of the world, they have found something they are happy to share with the proletariat… spreading the heat!
So, it was with great delight, as I slinked around the local city centre, that I came upon a vision of divine retribution… a Barclays Bank building now occupied by Poundland!
Could it be true, that representatives of the once almighty financial institution of ‘total disrespect for the ordinary punter’, where numbers only mattered if they were interrupted by several commas, are now in the business of selling goods to the proletariat for numbers that don’t even need a decimal point!? Or will I wake up and find it was all just a lovely impossible dream? I have been your intrepid financial correspondent, Juno, until we meet again soon.