I have just made a mistake. This will come as a shock to those of you who rely upon my level headed and perspicacious position as a dispenser of wisdom. Fear not, I am swift to learn my lessons, and hope not to repeat this mistake. “What did I do?” I hear you ask, stunned and concerned. Well, I made the mistake of watching the news on television, thereby interrupting my ability to settle into a trouble-free and deep sleep.
My friends at the BBC and Alistair Darling were discussing banking bonuses, again. The consensus appears to be that something ought to be jolly well done about it, and we shouldn’t be paying the chaps whose greed and stupidity caused the current economic fiasco.
Then along comes a Mr Justin Urquhart Stewart, who is described by the Beeb as a financial expert, but who appears to me to be a plummy voiced prat, who says that if these chaps are not paid large bonuses, we are in danger of losing them.
I share this concern with Justin, or short-dick as he is known colloquially; it would be a tragedy to lose these people before we have had time to give them a sound beating, chopped off their genitals and then lined the motherfuckers up against the fucking wall and fucking shot them.
One of the stories around at the time of the great depression was that Wall Street financiers were throwing themselves off of the top of skyscrapers. We should, in these civilised times, not allow that to happen again. If you come across a banker, a financial expert, an entrepreneur or a hedge fund dealer make sure that you throw them from the top of a tall building, not forgetting to break their noses before you do it.