I had the King of the Badgers around today, wanting me to bail out something called Badgertown Rock. I could not understand why he wanted me to fund some music festival?
He had brought with him some sleek looking badger in a rather ostentatious suit. He introduced himself as, Peter Porsche, COE of said Badgertown Rock. It turns out they are some financial organisation that has got involved in lending in something he called the sub-prime market. Enough of your financial gobbledegook, I said, what you mean is that you have been stupid enough to lend to some ne'er do wells and you have no hope of getting the money back have you?
Peter Porsche admitted this was the case. It turned out that they had lent a million pounds to the inhabitants of Badfort who had used Badfort castle as collateral. I spluttered in disbelief. I could not believe that anyone would be so foolish as to lend money on the basis of the value of that broken down old wreck of an eyesore.
Porsche, looking embarrassed, argued that Beaver Hateman had claimed it was a desirable residence, with beautifully laid-out grounds and an excellent scob-fishing river running through it. Yes, I told him, but if he had thought to actually look at the place he would have seen that most of the windows were smashed and the beautiful rooms long since torn apart for firewood.
I surmised that they would have no hope of getting their money back from those blackguards. Porsche started crying then. Apparently he had been around to Badfort to tell Beaver that steps would be taken to turn him out and he had been answered with a volley of Duck Bombs.
The Old Monkey and I soon came up with a solution. I told Porsche to block the Scob river at either end and put road blocks at all entrances so that they could turn back any transport carrying Black Tom.
That will force them to hand back their ill-gotten gains.
I had the King of the Badgers around today, wanting me to bail out something called Badgertown Rock. I could not understand why he wanted me to fund some music festival?
He had brought with him some sleek looking badger in a rather ostentatious suit. He introduced himself as, Peter Porsche, COE of said Badgertown Rock. It turns out they are some financial organisation that has got involved in lending in something he called the sub-prime market. Enough of your financial gobbledegook, I said, what you mean is that you have been stupid enough to lend to some ne'er do wells and you have no hope of getting the money back have you?
Peter Porsche admitted this was the case. It turned out that they had lent a million pounds to the inhabitants of Badfort who had used Badfort castle as collateral. I spluttered in disbelief. I could not believe that anyone would be so foolish as to lend money on the basis of the value of that broken down old wreck of an eyesore.
Porsche, looking embarrassed, argued that Beaver Hateman had claimed it was a desirable residence, with beautifully laid-out grounds and an excellent scob-fishing river running through it. Yes, I told him, but if he had thought to actually look at the place he would have seen that most of the windows were smashed and the beautiful rooms long since torn apart for firewood.
I surmised that they would have no hope of getting their money back from those blackguards. Porsche started crying then. Apparently he had been around to Badfort to tell Beaver that steps would be taken to turn him out and he had been answered with a volley of Duck Bombs.
The Old Monkey and I soon came up with a solution. I told Porsche to block the Scob river at either end and put road blocks at all entrances so that they could turn back any transport carrying Black Tom.
That will force them to hand back their ill-gotten gains.
No comments:
Post a Comment