Diary of a Naebody

Thursday

I am requested to fly to Washington for urgent talks on the current banking troubles. Clearly my conference speech has gone down well across the Atlantic!

I am rather busy at the moment, though, as I explained to the US ambassador. "Gordon," he said, "I fear I may have inadvertently misled you with my use of the word 'requested'."

I caught the next plane to the US, stopping only to buy prudent insurance policy against the airline going bust mid-flight.

Friday

The US Treasury secretary explained to the assembled world leaders the intricate detail of his complex and brilliant scheme for saving the US economy from disaster.

"What it is, guys, is we give just about all the money in the world to the bankers and, in exchange..."

He turned his briefing sheet over. There was clearly nothing written on the other side.

He sorted through his papers for a moment and whispered to his aides, before clearing his throat and concluding: "Nope, seems that's it. We give just about all the money in the world to the bankers and then things'll be dandy again." I led the applause. A standing ovation is the very least that this genius deserved.

Monday

I wish everyone would stop referring to my bold measures to prevent banking collapses as "nationalisation." They're not nationalisations, they are banking rescue plans.

I tried to explain this to a group of trade union leaders who I was forced to meet today. I didn't want
to meet them, but apparently the man from the electric had shown up at Labour Party HQ with a bailiff and it was a case of either chat up the TUC or have a whip-round for 10p pieces in the Cabinet room.

"This is nothing to do with nationalisation," I explained. "There will be no return to the 1970s. These banks are in terrible trouble and cannot continue on their own. At the same time, they are crucial to this country's economy."

At this, one of the union men, a bald-headed thug with a very common way of speaking, piped up. "Tell you what, brother, the railways are knackered an' all. Any chance of nationalising them?"

It would help if these union bods had even the simplest understanding of economics, but I suppose that is too much to hope for.

Tuesday

And still it gets worse! I just don't understand it. I asked Darling what he thought was causing all the trouble, but he just shrugged. "I don't get it," he said. "We keep doing exactly what the City boys tell us to do and yet the situation continues to deteriorate."

But that was impossible, I told him. Surely no-one could know more about the workings of the City than those who ran it? "It's a mystery, all right," Darling agreed. Then he returned to listening to Deep Purple on his iPod, while I went for a wee lie down.