Sunday, 12 April 2009

My bloody Valentine

I gave my heart to a boy, and it wasn't pretty.

Sunday, 8 March 2009

So what is this Starfishing lark anyway?

Apart from being a book that I'm in what is Starfishing? Answers on a postcard. I've been trawling the web to see what other people think but no one's quite got the answer I'm looking for yet.

From the Urban Dictionary:
"She was full starfishing for me last night...I full doodled her good!"

From the interweb:

A place where things happen without warning.


An album by the Green Chili Jam Band

On the bloggosphere here and here

At Yahoo! answers there is talk about it but few answers.

If you want to find out what it has to do with my story, well, you're just gonna have to buy the book. Go on. You know you want to.

Monday, 2 March 2009

When it comes to the crunch…

I haven't posted here for ages and the main reason for that is I had fuck all to say. I was busy too. Busy keeping hold of my job and your money ha ha. Yes, I am an evil trader who has made the country go wrong.

I have to say that all of this recent fuss about traders and bonuses has done my head in. Don't get me wrong; I know the money we get paid is obscene, we all do. I don't think for one second that I deserve it or anything. Some days I sit at my trading screen and I laugh at what I’m doing, piss my sides that there’s someone willing to pay good hard cash for me to do this.

But the credit crisis is my fault? What a pile of crap.

First of all, I'd like to point out the difference between a retail bank, like Lloyds TSB or Barclays, and an investment bank like Merrill Lynch or CSFB. Retail banks are the ones who look after your money for you, give you a bit of interest, and lend to you if your credit rating's good enough (at least, that’s the way it’s supposed to work lmfao.) These banks probably have a treasury department and, yes, these treasury departments will trade interest rate products and so on, but they're not really traders. They exist to make sure the bank has enough ready cash to pay out what it needs to, but also to use any surplus money to earn more profit overnight. Believe it or not, the perfect bank balance for someone like Halifax or Barclays is zero, at least when they’re sleeping, because that way they’ve used any leftovers to make more money. Efficient.

Are you with me so far?

An investment bank or trading company is whole different kettle of bananas and, yes, these companies are out to make a profit from the market. A brokerage, like I work for, provides market access for those who can't go direct and the customers have to pay a fee for the privilege. Like a stockbrokers, except we deal in futures and options.

And guess what? The crisis we've got to now is more complicated than either of these things.

You could blame the traders, labelling us greedy, irresponsible wide boys and girls. We’re an easy target. Nobody likes it that there are people in the world earning what we do, living our lifestyle. I can see about a million reasons for Joanna Public to hate the likes of me, but the credit crisis isn't one of them imo.

You could blame the retail banks. The ones with the piss poor management and irresponsible lending policies. You'd be nearer the mark. The whole thing started with banks in the states lending money to people who couldn't afford it and then, hey, guess what, they didn't pay it back. Shock fucking horror.

You could also blame the regulator. Sure as hell there were things the FSA could have done better. You only have to look at the example of Northern Rock to realise that. And what were Northern Rock doing wrong? Oh, they were lending to people who couldn't afford it. Is this sounding familiar?

The politicians have played their part in this debacle, no fucking doubt about it, don’t they always? You can go all the way back to Maggie and look at ways things have been regulated, or not more to the point, and blame her if you like. Why not? Everyone does and there’s something in it.

But, you know what? You need to go a lot closer to home to really get to the root of all this evil.

Have you ever borrowed money for something you didn’t really need? Have you ever borrowed more money than you really should have? Do you regularly spend more than comes in your wages? Do you have more shoes than you need, rails of clothes you don’t wear? Can you honestly say that you don’t fall for the crap of designer labels or strive for the perfect home, collecting things and buying right into the consumer bollox that we all do? Don’t get me wrong; I can’t. But I’m not the one getting holier than thou here.

There’s all sorts of shit in the world right now that you can blame anyone you like for. Global warming. Endangered species. Reality TV and Girls Aloud. You can sit at home and moan about all this stuff till you’re blue in the face, but have you ever done anything about any of it? Like fuck you have.

If the crunch fits…

Thursday, 12 June 2008


I read this in a book today:

"All men are murderers, Juliet thought. All of them. They murder women. They take a woman, and little by little they murder her."*

It made me sit up, that statement. It made me wonder if that was true or not. I've certainly met my fair share of men who are this kind of murderer. I've definitely felt murdered in this way before. But ALL men?

The character in the book, Juliet, she's pissed off because some knob had a bit of a sexist shot at her at a dinner party and her husband, instead of backing her up, he sat back and made some comment about her tits. Lol. Juliet should have a go in my book, see how she feels. I doubt she'd last five minutes. I'd love to see her face when the lads on the trading floor shouted 'beaver' at her. I'd love to see how she reacted when they whistled and shouted the first time she walked in.

But she does have a point about some men, a certain type of man. The kind who has affairs behind his wife's back. The kind who'll shag you in the toilets while she sits sipping vodka and tonic upstairs. This kind of knob needs to be careful. Women can be murderers too....

*From Arlington Park, by Rachel Cusk (which is a very good read, if you wanna know about it...)

Tuesday, 29 April 2008

Been around the world....

So I've not had time to blog for a bit. Been travelling. Hong Kong, Chicago, and home via New York.

I love New York City. It was a love affair from the moment I first set foot there, some, well, some years ago. My first trip there didn't end so well, but that's another story, and not one I'm going to go into here.

There's something about being in New York. I've only ever been for short stays, which adds to the magic because you're a bit jetlagged, so it feels like your soul's moved to the right of your body just a step. Not that I believe in that soul shit, but it's the best way I can think to describe it. It's like your brain is set to echo mode. Things take just that little bit longer to happen, or to be processed as happening. Sounds vibrate. Music seems louder and yet further away because your ears haven't recovered from the flight.

Most of all, being in New York is like being in a theme park. It's a city that feels like a reproduction of itself. You've seen the streets and buildings that you pass a million times before, on TV, in the movies. The brown stones with the metal fire escapes cascading down them, they look like they belong in a film studio. The walk and don't walk signs. The trucks with big noses. The steaming grates on the 'sidewalk'.

I love it I love it I love it. I'm gonna move here. I like American men too - the accent just does something for me. But don't tell Jase that ;)

Tuesday, 8 April 2008

Margaret Thatcher versus the Blow Job

I have a little game for ya. I call it Margaret Thatcher versus the Blow Job.

First, get your friends talking about Mrs Thatcher. The most effective way to do this is to get them in a room, make sure there's at least one loony lefty there, and suggest that old milk snatcher might have done some things good for the country. It never fails. Soon you'll find debate, insults and four letter words (sometimes beer) fly round the table.

Next, say something like 'Fuck this for a game of soldiers. Why we talking about Mrs Thatcher when we could be talking about something more interesting?' Suggest to your friends they start talking about blow jobs instead. Note how they all laugh, and giggle, and start talking about blow jobs.

But then, before you can even believe it, notice how the conversation flows right back to Mrs T.

Mention blow jobs again.

Watch how you end up back on Mrs T.

Do this until you get bored and note the count. That's your score.

My highest was 22. What a night! Lol.