Is everybody as confused as I am about the ‘Credit Crunch’?
Yesterday it was all doom and gloom, the markets were at rock bottom. Even HBOS an institution most of us thought fireproof was being bought up by a smaller bank.
This morning the US government have announced that they are going to buy up a load of debts and now the markets are soaring and bankers are dancing round with their cocks out screaming “Woo hoo!” This all seems a bit yo-yoey to me. Surely a group of people can make their minds up as to whether it’s going to be a good day in the markets. All you need to do is order them to continue trading and forget about any doubts they may have. If all the traders and bankers just pretended they didn’t know about the crunchy credit stuff then the markets would be OK. The whole capitalist world is being brought to it’s knees by a bunch of pussies who are frightened of a large ball of money wool. I reckon if you wandered onto the trading floor of an average bank and said “Boo!” all the people would just die of fright.
Oh where was I?
Ah yes television.
Last night I saw the final episode of Spooks: Code 9 which I found recorded onto my Virgin V+ box. Well if I need to hear people wanking on about their Sky+ boxes then you can hear about my cable equivalent. Anyway as I sat watching what should have been a thrilling story about spies doing stuff but all I could think about was the dialogue which sounded like they had taken a bad radio play, transferred it to television then shat on it. In one action scene the child faced chief was commentating on what we could plainly see with our eyes. Now I don’t have a problem with audio description, it’s one of the finest features to come from the whole technology thing; however I would usually expect it to be on a separate sound track and not incorporated into the script. What next? The news perhaps, in which Peter Sissons appears on the screen and says” Good evening, I’m sitting behind a desk wearing clothes and I’ve just farted.” Then there’s a danger of other channels taking it up. Imagine ‘You Are What You Eat’ with shit prodding pseudo-doc Gillian McKeith giving a blow by blow account of the texture of a particularly vile stool. Oh sorry, she does that.
However I should be grateful that they were still better than the wretched ‘Bonekickers.’