October 27, 2008
Discard the Mask
Learn to be still
Quiet and strong
Let yourself cry
When you sense something wrong
Open your eyes
Be ready to see
Respond to the dance
And learn to be free
Accept you're not right
Accept you're not wrong
You're fluid and changing
And moving along
Feel what you feel
And then let it pass
Be true to yourself
And discard the mask.
R.I.P - The founder of BOMB
We hereby announce the sad passing of Mr Bojangles' alter ego - founder of the highly successful Bojangles Mattress Bank.
He died in his sleep, surrounded by those he loved - both notes and coins.
He wrote a final message, however, on the back of a cheque for half a million pounds. At last, a use for it!
'No flowers, please, my friends.
Let them stay where they are; grow where they are.
Let them flourish in their own soil, all rooted and fine.
And I wish the same for you.'
October 23, 2008
End things at BOMB
I'm lying here, spent, (unlike my money) and waiting for the sunrise.
I can still just see the eastern skies through a hole in my piles of cash. And I'm looking forward to the lightening glory. It'll more than make up for all those I haven't seen or noticed down the years. Each day is precious - and every day a prize, as they say.
The postman is leaving the cash outside the door now. He can't force anymore in. I am bloated with currency, almost literally. I woke a couple of times last night with £2000 in my mouth, which may be hard to swallow, but is true. It was eye-watering more than mouth-watering.
But don't cry on my account. I'm crying on yours - safe here at BOMB, but not helping me greatly. As I watch the eastern skies, waiting for my last sunrise. And it's true, by the way - it is darkest just before the dawn.
Cheque it sometime...they say that the ability to make puns is the last function the human loses....so goodbye,my friends...I'll see the sunrise, and then take my leave...I'm looking across the river of death and looking to the bank on the other side...
October 20, 2008
The downside of banking
There's still money coming in through the door every day. So much money - money to die for, in many ways! Each wretched delivery entraps me further, wedging me betwixt mattress and ceiling. Thanks, Mr Postman, but no thanks! Go away! For so long, i wanted you to come - all my life. But now I want you to stop. What you bring me - it doesn't help.
My phone rings occasionally, but i cannot reach it to answer. And I'm not sure I now have the strength. So who knows who is trying to make contact? And with what messages? I do wonder.
Last night, I watched the big harvest moon, hanging shiny and round in the black sky. And then slowly, the pink and blue fringes, as dawn broke in the East. Down on the street below, some early morning laughter. Rather wonderful.
I'd like a drink, actually. I may be richer than Croesus, but what i really want is a drink. Some water...
October 17, 2008
Banking news - good and bad
There's good news and bad news in my banking saga today.
The good news is that I have had such an influx of cash since the whole Icelandic debacle, that I have had to buy another mattress to put it all under. Loads and loads of crisp bank notes surround me which is a pretty good picture of heaven, eh??!
The bad news is that, given the cramped nature of my flat, I can now reach neither the door nor the kitchen. I can't even get to my phone.
I have alot of money, but i appear to be trapped. And isolated.
We'll have to see...
October 13, 2008
BOMB - stock market news
Greetings again, as I put down my latest printout of the Nikkei index which is down 489 points - and I won't even try and put into layman's terms what that actually means!
But let's start with some praise. One of you recently called me 'a complete banker', which I appreciate - thank you! I didn't come into this for praise, but if it comes - so be it. I am not resting on my laurels, however. Instead, I'm resting on your money (!) here at BOMB (the Bojangles Mattress Bank.)
But like Barclays, I will not be accepting any government cash today. It's really very difficult to breathe at night with my nose pressed against the ceiling - any more cash beneath me could seriously damage my health!
But these are stressful times. I opened the bank as a largely charitable venture - yet find myself increasingly caught up in a pretty dark world of subterfuge. Just yesterday, I found my postman opening my mail - until his false moustache fell off, revealing 'my postman' to be none other than a leading hedge fund manager!
'And another thing - there is no post on Sunday!' I added rather mischievously, as I kicked him to the ground!
And then this morning, I discovered a financial journalist pretending to be my cleaner! I spotted him at once, of course, because I don't have a cleaner. And Robert Peston looked very silly in that bright yellow apron.
But get this. He then offered me £1000 for inside information. I said I'd sleep on it.
We were helpless with laughter.
October 09, 2008
Further financial update from BOMB
What a day of globe trotting!
When I set up the Bojangles Mattress Bank, (BOMB) little did I realise that I would be in quite such demand. Today, just for the record, I have had long conversations with both Sarkozy and Merkel. Unfortunately, there wasn't a translator present, so I didn't understand a word from beginning to end. (Neither appear to be English.)
Actually, I had a similar experience when talking with President Bush in Washington yesterday. Couldn't follow a word he said either. But I think that may have been because he was talking bollocks.
Anyway, enough of this financial dissection of the world markets. I'm probably losing you with my technical language. But let me state quite publicly that I completely agree with Gordon about the need to pump liquidity into the system.
That's right! It's definitely time we all had a cup of tea.
Bring your harps, and bring your incense..
Had Ron's Collider not impaled itself in the body of the milk cart in Stoat Lane, the infestation at Grotty Hovel might have been much worse. As the gold top swilled into the hedgerow the rats were out of the door in a thrice and lapping it up. Miss Stoat was away, either with the fairies or nursing an elderly relative in Watling. As luck would have it, little Boy Blue was mooching around, he never seems to have much to do, and he hot footed it to the Stranglers' Arms where the rat catcher was toying with his usual Cinzano and lemon and mulling over his crediti crunch with Sir Vice Provider. Picture his eyes lighting up as Boy Blue lisped the news of this upturning of events.
So, with the mellow fruitfulness season, and I cannot remember if I told you about the Harvest lunch, the house groups have reconvened round the Bracombe hearths. The Rector is pushing us to discuss, at great length, the purpose driven life. Or was it the life driven purpose?
The old Schoolmaster and his dog host a group in Anvil Cottage. The garden opens on to Stoat lane and the dog ran a close second to the Rat Catcher when cleaning up the milk spillage. Well, the Grim Reaper has joined Miss Sourdough, Mrs Minchin, Tom, (the Piper's son),and Mr Kipling, who provides the nibbles. Sir Lee Demeanour used to attend regularly but was seen to be reading the Methodist Magazine during Matins. It might well have escaped notice but for the fact that he knocked his sword to the floor during the Venite and our attention was attracted to this non 1662 publication.
The bumper apple crop has us all bottling and jamming and filling our store cupboards. Newly arrived Miss Scarlet Temptress has been alarming the elderly with talk of Botulism. We know nothing of this and suspect it is something they do in the towns and cities. She'll forget her health and safety directives once the elderberry wine kicks in.
The day looks fine, I've promised to help starch the white nappery at the Knights' Hall this morning.
October 08, 2008
Losing it for 24 hours
I lost it for 24 hours. Money that is. Quite a lot of it. I was one of the many with savings in the Icelandic bank that went under. It turns out that it didn't really exist anyway. It was just a number on the screen of the internet bank. One day it was there, the next the website was not accessible and our money gone. Thanks to Mr Darling he promises that we will get it back.
It turns out that money is only a concept. OK there are notes and coins but most of the money changing hands in the world does not exist. It is just numbers on the computer screens of people working in the financial centres of the world. So if it doesn't really exist does it matter whether we have it or not?
I am surprised really that I did not lose it, mentally I mean. The money we lost and then found was money to buy us a house to live in. It included an advance on my inheritance from my parents. It had value for what it might have bought, what it might have become, but it had no real value in our present lives sitting in a bank.
We realised we were not much worse off. We had each other, nobody had died, we have jobs, we have a roof over our heads (OK it's rented but who cares), we have enough money to buy food. So basically our life in the present was still OK.
It was a hard way to find out what money means. Maybe I should have taken up Mr Bojangles offer of the BOMB after all.
October 07, 2008
Nice to Know
My grandson aged 5 was on the computer playing a game when my daughter commented on how quickly he was moving up through the levels, "well" he said "if you get the watch and then press the z key everything blows up and you move up a level" my daughter asked him who had shown him how to do that " noone, I just know it in my head" he replied and went back to his game. Five minutes later he turned round to us both and stated "I think God put it in there"
Nice to know God's keeping up with the latest technology and it gives a whole different meaning to 'God be in my head and in my understanding!'
October 06, 2008
Well, thank you!
Yes, BOMB - (the Bojangles Mattress Bank) certainly seems to have struck a chord! Since I became a bit of a banker, with my offer to keep your money under my mattress - the cash has been flooding in, to the extent that I now need a ladder to get into bed.
But that's OK - serious times need serious men with serious ladders.
It will not surprise you to know that i have now been invited onto the new economic forum of financial gurus, and we had an excellent working breakfast this morning. The catering staff were working, and we had breakfast.
We discussed figures mainly - and all agreed that Gordon's was much better for losing a few pounds. Talking of which, what's going on in the money markets???
'Fuck knows,' was the general feeling, so 'Yikes!' all round, in a way - especially with the Germans 'doing an Irish'.(By the way, just to clarify - no one was calling Mandy 'Fucknose' - that was all in his imagination, and he now understands that.)
Still, throughout it all, your money's safe with me. Just one small thing, though - no more gold ingots please. They're a good investment - but very uncomfortable to sleep on.
October 02, 2008
Exciting Financial News!
This morning, I'm launching a new way to handle your money. It's called BOMB - the Bojangles Mattress Bank. So if any of you wish to send me your money to put under my mattress, please do.
Along with the Irish banks, it may just be the safest place at present. Certainly your cheques won't bounce. Nothing bounces on my mattress.
And like the Irish banks, I do offer you a blanket assurance. Your money will be covered by a blanket. (Rumours that my balance sheets have been laundered are simply untrue. Have you seen the price of Ariel?)
BOMB is also concerned for the world, in a caring, sharing sort of way. We want to help the kids. So look out for the Christmas single we're sponsoring 'Duvet Know it's Christmas.'
This is a 'Peace of mind' offer: with your money wedged underneath my mattress, you can sleep well. I'm not sure I will, but then really, what difference will one more lump make.
BOMB - why don't you?
I heard yesterday of a GP in trouble. He caused upset by calling one of his patients 'morbidly obese.'
People thought this was a bit strong; a terrible thing for a doctor to say about their patient. As someone said:
'As if they haven't got enough on their plate already.'