Tuesday, 18 January 2011

FSA fines Barclays £7.7 million for investment advice shenanigans

Well, 'failings'; that's the word the FSA has used. Yes, shockingly, the FSA is still in business. It's like one of those Hollywood films. The bad guy has been shot, stabbed, hit on the head with an ashtray, and hung, drawn and quartered, and drowned. You relax a bit. The next thing you know, his lifeless body has sprung to, er, life, and there's another five minutes or so to go until Daniel Craig or Bruce Willis (or someone of that kidney) finishes him off with an atom bomb. And, as I recently intimated, even an atom bomb wouldn't settle the FSA's hash.

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Let's calm down, everyone. This is the chill-out after last night's rave up. We're not going to think about the FSA. The sky is quite blue, and very clear. A beautiful winter afternoon. Take a deep breath. Undo a few buttons on your shirt. If you're a lady, undo them all. I'm a man of the world. I won't blush. Close your eyes. If you're in the office, forget about your co-workers. They do not exist. Actually, if you're a man, I suggest you go back to work. Open your eyes. Your co-workers do exist, the rotters. I want to be left alone with the ladies.

Are you wearing a skirt? Now, I want you to take your hand and -

O Master, what the hell is going on?

Do you mind? I was having an intimate moment with my female fans.

I'll be speaking to Big Herb about this.

O my child -

Laters.

Damn! Okay, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I think we better end it here.