Wednesday, 30 April 2008

Oh Noez! Eet ees the Recession!

Being brought up in the affluent 80's and 90's my only knowledge of recessions and stock market crashes came from the history classes I ignored because I was too busy txting people on my Nokia with it's one changeable cover or writing 'Spice Girls are Slags' on the back page of my exercise book. (how many people did that sentence alienate?)

This meant that when everyone started wittering on about recessions in the media I wasn't too concerned, because as I saw it, so long as we don't have to queue up for bread, fill wheelbarrows with fivers or dance the Charleston, it ain't that bad.

But wait! The warning signs have already started to emerge and infiltrate my self absorbed little world!

*First Direct now take bloody ages to answer their phone. Occasionally - typically when I NEED to speak to them when I have done something stupid like skipping off to eat my M&S sandwiches without first taking my card back from the cashier - I have been put on hold!

*Cadbury's chocolate bars now cost about 50p. But that could just be the greedy newsagent.

*The flatmate goes mad when she sees a good offer at the supermarket and we end up with 4 tubs of Flora Omega 3 margarine in our fridge. This encroaches dangerously on my olives and teeth whitening gel space.

*People at work start attempting to flog their gaudy Nike Air Force Ones on the intranet, as in these austere times they no longer want to look like a feckless neon teenager and instead dress in black like normal 30 year olds.

*More people quit smoking and in doing so eat more Kettle Chips to build up valuable body fat for when the food runs out. *ahem*

*It pours with rain the whole fucking time. It's impossible to have a recession when it is beautiful and sunny out, so thanks to greedy US banks and their sub prime motgages I am still wearing three layers plus a coat when scurrying between work and the Underground. This is a pathetic fallacy at work, and I won't have the weather centre or fables about 'April showers' tell me otherwise.

So whatistodo? Using the same line of thinking that lead me to ponder what in my flat could be made into a raft during the floods last year*, I have decided to take affirmative action. I am not going to buy stupid trainers, I'll keep that one cigarette I have left for future bartering NOT for when I am a bit drunk on Friday, and I'll put a new lock on the flat door to stop starving neighbours from breaking in and stealing my olives.

*The dinner table with lots of cling film wound round the legs with my guitar for a paddle

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