Monetary slang

Yesterday I received an email that began:

It was a pleasure speaking with you again today.  Below is the formula to determine the minimum collateral value before a house call for both Margin and Non-Purpose Loans.  The maintenance requirement for equities is 30% for both loan types.

Minimum Collateral Value = Debit Balance / 1 – Maintenance Requirement

And concluded:

Please call me if any additional questions come up.

I didn’t have any questions as such, so I consulted my friends on Facebook, and was able to compile a comprehensive and challenging list. I was therefore able to reply thus:

Yo! Bobby!

It sure was cool to speak TO you too, although I have no recollection of it.

There is an expression used in the home of the Empire “I didn’t understand a word of it”. That would not be apposite in this case, as I understood all of the words; it was your neat trick of combining them in such a way as to render them incomprehensible that got me. Well done!

Anyway, I didn’t really have any questions, so I asked my friends on Facebook if they would like to take advantage of your kind offer. Here they are:

Rosemarie asks: WTF? You know people who can decipher that shit?   (that one may rhetorical)

Mike: How long before you own all of my assets?

Lynne: If God created the sun on the fourth day, how had four days passed?

Richard: …do you still do that IRS dodge you they used to and who is your contact?

Lynne (again): what is purpose of a non-purpose loan?

Dave: Where did I put my car keys?

FN: Would you rather be a flying horse, a unicorn, or just a regular horse?

Lynne (again, she’s a saucy minx, isn’t she?): Would you rather star in a porn film and have to watch it with your parents or have your parents star in a porn film and have to watch it with your friends?

Richard (again): Red sauce, brown sauce or no sauce at all?

Norma: Mathematically, with no brackets, that formula does not make sense! Why divide anything by 1?

FN: (again): Did you ever practise kissing with one of your sisters' Barbies?

Adam: Guess what?

Over to you

Love and peace.

Filth

The Indescribable reports "Nigel Farage says homosexuality makes most Britons aged over 70 feel uncomfortable as he defends candidate Roger Helmer"

This is a tricky one, isn't it? Maybe our Nige is telling the truth for once. I tend to err on the side of fairness, and just because someone has a proven track record of talking total bollocks all of the time, it does not prove that he is not occasionally capable of telling the truth once or twice. But let's put him aside for a moment. I would quite like to put him aside permanently – it is not as though there is a shortage of twats to replace him.

Let us turn our attention for a moment then to the elderly. Yes, they may be irritating and irrelevant, but that does not mean that they are not deserving of compassion. So, granddad, if homosexuality makes you feel uncomfortable the solution is simple. Stop doing it. Alternatively, find a less painful way of doing it – I am sure that these exist, but don’t wish to encourage the use of this website for the dissemination of such information.

If any of you wish to tell Roger how to roger Nigel in a less painful way, his website is here: http://www.rogerhelmermep.co.uk/

Lady Chatterley's Plover

A few weeks ago a friend of mine appeared on the electric television (for about the length of time it takes a rhea to cross a road) having been witness to a rhea roaming the Hertfordshire countryside.

The Torygraph and other worthy tomes today report that it has been shot. The rhea, that is, not my friend – he remains cheerfully bullet-free, despite the best efforts of the Establishment.

The dangerous animal (again, I allude to the bird, not my friend) was shot by a gamekeeper. There is no irony in the job title being in direct conflict with the job description. A local golfer is quoted as saying “It’s sad that someone had to shoot it, but if it was a traffic hazard, I understand that.”

My niece pointed out that “traffic hazards” are not exclusively avian. If there is a need to rid the world of potential traffic hazards then it is incumbent on me to join the kill. I will be arming myself like Rambo and setting of in pursuit of them. I believe I shall start with Hertfordshire golfers, whose ridiculous clothing can distract motorists, whose badly directed golf balls can easily unseat motor cyclists and whose ridiculous opinions can cause car drivers (me) to such excesses of rage that they lose all notion of highway etiquette.

It is perhaps a cruel thing to do, but I am not one to shirk my duty. I will attempt to be humane in the execution and leave the bodies neatly piled in bunkers so that they can be easily covered over.

If you can let me have a list of other potential traffic hazards, I will develop a schedule on my free weekends.

*  For the benefit of Abe, the CIA analyst who has been tasked with monitoring my net activities (Hi, Abe – how are Cynthia and the kids?), I should perhaps point out that this article is intending to be satirical. I am, as you know, a pinko, tree-hugging, commie, pacifist faggot, and the only dangerous weapon I shall be likely to wield today is my bread knife should I feel esurient of an evening and set about the organic, wholemeal loaf that I baked overnight in order to get outside some of it.