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Steven
Dean delves into the world’s
financial markets and prepares for his
pilgrimage to meet the beautiful people of
New York. Tattoos are OK, but no cookies
allowed!
Forget increasing fuel
prices and the rising cost of food, fuel
poverty and the winter fuel allowance,
Gran’s biggest concern at the moment is
that, apparently, the cost of buggery has
risen to £10,000.
I don’t know what she’s
been reading [see
here – Ed.], but I told her to shop
around. There’s always someone trying to
take advantage – it’s a free market, after
all. As a wise investor once told me,
there’s hay to be made come rain or shine –
which is why I decided to go on a crash
course in finance.
Daniel wasn’t impressed:
“You don’t have a head for figures and can’t
get your tongue around difficult terms.”
Nonsense. Heads
and figures have always been a speciality of
mine and he’d be surprised what I can get my
tongue around. Anyway, as Mum says,
enthusiasm is half the battle, and I have
that in abundance. What’s more,
metaphorically speaking, I love
making hay (and rolling around in it!) and I
could teach the banks a thing or two about
credit management – I’ve got enough wasted
plastic to set up my own recycling scheme.
I told Dad that I’d
enrolled at the LSE (that’s London School of
Economics to you) but, in truth, my
financial tutoring came courtesy of Lloyds
of London – the two City guys I picked up
through a dual listing ad in the
Financial Times Lonely Hearts column –
and the twin brothers I met who were full of
Eastern promise, Hang
Seng and Nikkei. Perfect, and far
less boring than some stuffy lecture hall.
All in all, the five of us shared a very
healthy, balanced teachers–pupil
relationship, which was based on mutual
trust, equity and cum.
Cum is Latin for “with”,
and in an investing context describes the
rights or privileges attached to owning a
security. In simple terms, a share bought or
sold, “cum a benefit”, confers that benefit
on the purchaser. In financial circles,
common “cum” phrases include cum rights, cum
dividend, cum scrip and cum capitalisation.
However, I mean spunk.
And lots of it.
My fiscal journey was
full of perks, beginning with a little night
trading, FTSE and telephone banking, before
progressing to some heavy day trading. After
an initial cooling-off period, and despite
the appalling weather and all-round economic
gloom, thanks to Hang
Seng and Nikkei and Lloyd and Lloyd,
it turned out to be a very hot summer. Our
private treaty included plenty of voluntary
excess: gazumping and
gazundering, spreading and trading,
and upside/downside rotation. I received
plenty of liquidity, played around with some
stocks and bonds and suffered no panic
withdrawals whatsoever. As far as I can see,
the future’s bright.
Talking of futures, I’ve
received a tender offer from my friend Spike
– two weeks with the beautiful people in
New York, so Dan and I are off to Manhattan
to melt some plastic. I can’t wait.
The food’s going to be a
bit of a nightmare, though. Apparently, it’s
all pizza and hot dogs, pretzels and bagels,
cheesecake and chocolate-chip cookies. Which
is fine if you’re a carb queen like Daniel,
but I’m strictly protein, so, needless to
say, I won’t be inflicting cookie
recipes on any of you on my return.
Before I go, I’m off to
have a new tattoo. Apparently, some nice
bloke at the LSE (that’s London Stock
Exchange to you) has
offered to tattoo all gay men’s arses. I
don’t know the details, but it sounds like a
good idea to me. I thought about going for
insert
here!
If you’re gagging for more, come
on to
Steven Dean.
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