Newsreaders love market meltdown
The thing about this global credit crunch meltdown-bailout-world-of-pain thing, is that the newsreaders are absolutely loving it.
They’ve got their best apocalypse voices on – deep-throated and ultra-serious, with their game-faces switched to max, but occasionally a little gag to provide some light relief for the scared folks back home.
They are like a football commentator when a player does something violent – trying to disguise the fact that Eric Cantona karate kicking a Palace fan is the most exciting thing that’s happened to him since Bobby Moore touched him in the press room that time.
Their joy is unconstrained at the moment because of the gap between the bad news on the radio and the relatively small effect it’s had on normal people so far.
Obviously, they have to dim their smiles a bit when people die, and in recession stories they rein themselves in when people are actually losing their homes in big numbers.
But while the trouble is still to properly trickle down, it’s a good time to be a newsreader.
* One sign of the changing times on the Wharf came this week. At 9pm on Monday the Jubilee Line was packed.
Admittedly the DLR wasn’t running, but even taking that into account the Jubbly was rammed.
And it wasn’t a crowd of drunks who’d grown tired of stuffing fifties into lap-dancers’ g-strings and decided to head back to Notting Hill to watch the Tory party conference. It was normal Wharfers working even longer hours than normal.
Just to show what an asset they are to their company. Why they should be kept on in the tough times ahead.
* One Wharfer we could do with losing is the cretinous commuter who on Friday evening went up to the
Officially Appointed Busker at the Jubilee Line and started fishing around in her money.
She stopped playing, swung her guitar to her side and confronted him, affronted, upset and angry.
He and his mate laughed at how funny he’d been and staggered off.
The look on The Officially Appointed Busker’s face said: “I knew everyone around here would be a tosser.
“Thank you for proving me right.��?
Could, do you think, if enough of us got together, could we vote people off the Wharf?
I’ll find out this guy’s name, print up some posters and open two phone vote lines.
If you want him to go, end your call “8��?.
OK, we couldn’t get him sacked, but maybe Canary Wharf Group would ban him from all public spaces and bars. Just like the punishment meted out to drug dealers in small towns, who are immortalised in police posters.
“John Cretin Ramsbottom is banned from all licensed premises and sandwich venues on the estate.
“If you see him please call security. Do not approach this bearded monkey, he really is too funny.��?