[Some are con­cerned at the silence on this blog (then don’t for­get the twit­ter feed!) which is due merely to the pres­sure of work. Nonethe­less, dri­ven by such cries of dis­tress from read­ers in need of com­fort in times such as these Geeklawyer will write.]

There is some­thing delight­ful about a mael­strom; some­thing about the sight of fren­zied peo­ple being swept to their deaths in legion num­bers that is, well, yes, excit­ing. The stock­mar­ket is col­laps­ing; inno­cent hard­work­ing fam­ily are being thrown home­less onto the streets; urchins are beg­ging for pen­nies in the street.

In short, life is sweet. Sweet for Geeklawyer.

For bankers life is a shade wor­ri­some with sup­pressed fears of that most bowel-loosening ter­ror that dare not speak it’s name: the Run on Funds.Never one to miss a laugh at some­one else’s expense Geeklawyer walked into his bank this morn­ing to stand in front the cashier, with a soon to be atten­tive queue to his rear:

Geeklawyer: In view of your dire finan­cial sit­u­a­tion I’d like to with­draw some funds.

Teller: Yes sir. How much would you like to withdraw?

Geeklawyer: I’d like to with­draw £XXX,000 in cash. And I’d like to do so now, if you please.

Teller: You mean in a bank draft?

Geeklawyer (loudly, for the oddly alert bank queue): No. It might bounce. I’ll take cash thank you. You do have enough cash? Yes?

Teller (pal­ing vis­i­bly): I’ll need to speak to the manager.

Geeklawyer: Yes. I imag­ine you will.

Of course the need to do this was entirely unre­lated to the finan­cial cri­sis but it makes the tim­ing so much more fun. More fun, it was still, since the bank queue was entirely staffed by plebs unable to pay their rent and wor­ried about their jobs in the impend­ing finan­cial mon­soon. Their envy and hate per­fumed me more fra­grantly than the finest gentleman’s after-shave.