Get Out Of Mein Fast Lane!

Four days in the sun-baked Alps has been a welcome break from recent stresses and strains (although substituted a few aches and pains in return). Oddly, the stress-relief began and ended quite genuinely with the actual crossing of the Swiss border. There are a number of reasons I can think of why that may be the case, but in this post I will focus on just one: German drivers.

The sausage-munchers are not the worst drivers in Europe. That accolade falls fairly and squarely on the shoulders of the Belgians. I know some will say it’s the Italians, others the Spanish, and others, perhaps with some justification, the inhabitants of Swindon. However, I have driven everywhere and I can assure you that it’s the Belgians. The Antwerp ring-road is like some living nightmare real-life episode of Whacky Races.

No, our Teutonic friends are not the worst. Instead they are the most inconsiderate. What we are dealing with is not some mass-hysterical automotive version of the Red Arrows, but rather a large population of drivers, each and every one of whom assumes categorically that they have right of way in every conceivable circumstance. As another road user, you are expected to know and adhere to your inferior status, and make way accordingly. Indicators are optional extras in Germany, and in BMWs there is no actual interface between driver and vehicle. The orange lights simply go on and off again at random to 'indicate' to the Polizei that they can function.

They will not make way for you, they will block your intentions if at all possible, they will pull out or accelerate if they see you are about to over-take and they will never, ever, ever acknowledge or thank you for making way for them. Worst of all, on the Autobahns they will hound you like rabid dogs. For a normal person all this can be enormously intimidating.

Imagine, if you will, heading South towards the mountains for a well-earned break along a stretch of two-lane roadway. You are maintaining what you consider to be a fairly sprightly 150 kmh and come upon some slower moving lorries. Checking your mirrors to ensure there is still no-one in sight, let alone your vicinity, you pull into the fast lane to over-take. A few seconds later you glance in the rear-view mirror and enter a momentary state of shock. You appear to have suddenly acquired an additional passenger.

Time slows down under such circumstances. Your mind races: you remember stopping to refuel but you are sure you didn’t pick up any hitch-hikers. Could someone have snuck in the car? Where were they hiding? Should you scream? Would he notice if you dialled the Polizei? Could you reach the Swiss-army knife in the glove compartment? Which tool would be most effective? Then gradually (in half a second or so) you are aware that despite the fact you can see the red veins in his rage-filled eyeballs, Herr E. Tchuebacher is not actually on your back seat, just on your back bumper. And boy is he mad. You have the audacity to occupy the fast lane at the same time he was attempting to break the land speed record on his way to his next wireless bluetooth headset sales pitch, and thus the furious flashing of his headlights is Morse code for “if I didn’t have ein meeting to go to Ich would force you off ze road and mutilate your pathetic Hund, who ist staring at me through your back vindow. Tell him to stop ze staring!”

While you’re surprised that Herr E. Tchuebacher managed to make up the distance from over the horizon to 4mm from your number plate in less than two bars of the theme tune to “The Greatest Escape”, there’s no surprise in what car he is driving. The problem with BMW’s marketing slogan is that while their cars may or may not be the ‘ultimate driving machine’, there is no doubt that, in Germany at least, their owners take this as definitive confirmation of what they knew already: that they are the ‘ultimate driver.’

It’s a well-accepted fact that Germans love rules. To an extent this is true. They adore regulations, the more the merrier, because each one gives them a chance to indulge their real passion: chastising someone who has stepped over the line. I imagine that the only reason the government will not restrict the speed limits on the Autobahns is that they recognise the importance to the nation of allowing themselves to let off steam. Without this particular outlet for aggression, who knows what they would get up to.

Somnambulist Is Rambling

Up Alp. Down Alp. Up Alp.. yodelodelodelodelooo-eh-iii... (repeat to fade)

Phriday Photo IX

It's been a tough week. How about a trip to Amsterdam to take your mind off things?

Drive-by Philosophy

We learnt a very valuable lesson yesterday. Sometimes, in the life of a market-maker, a sequence of events occurs such as this: client asks for a price, your electronic price engine quotes a rate but is a little latent (spot monkeys call this 'f+++ing historical'), the client deals, and the market moves rapidly against you, resulting in a large loss on your book before you have even had the chance to bat an eyelid. It's kind of the reverse of the golden log. Spot monkeys call this sequence of events, amongst other things, a 'drive-by shooting'.

We knew all this before yesterday. However, what we weren't aware of was that Schadenfreude Boy has a philosophical view on such events. Apparently, "Sh+t happens."

The reason we weren't aware of such philosophical perspicuity before, is that every time SB has been the victim of a drive-by shooting in the past, it has resulted in a vast array of Spielzeugs being evicted from the spot-desk pram, followed by a week-long sulk. Nevertheless, I hope that UDH Boy has taken such learned wisdom to heart and realised that the value of inflicted losses is purely in the eye of the beholder.

Above And Beyond

Just want to say a word of thanks to UDH Boy and Trywalker for (once again) working to well past bedtime last night unwinding the accidental unwindings of the previous unwindings (they know what I mean).

I'm still pondering over the conversation that set things moving last night, though..

Somnambulist: "Hello? UDH Boy? Have you seen that email? I think we are gonna have to go in the office..."

UDH Boy: "Yeah, I'm already here."

S: "Uhh, ok I have Trywalker here shall I send him to help?" Trywalker, bounces up and down like donkey from Shrek with a 'pick-me, pick-me' look on his face...

UDH "Yeah, why not, someone's gonna have to take the rap for what we're gonna do to the EURNOK market in NYK hours..."

All good stuff... but one thing is uppermost in my mind. What was UDH Boy doing in the office at 9pm when I saw him phone a taxi home at 6........?

Another Day At A Medium-Sized International Bank I

I got to three in the series but have to call a halt. Since there is no longer such a thing as an Investment Bank, I'll have to give up pretending that I work at one.

In battle there is a phenomenon called the "fog of war." This describes the general state of confusion and uncertainty that, despite extensive planning and preparation, is an absolute certainty to engulf the command and control system when the sh+t hits the fan. Communication becomes garbled, messages are sent to the wrong people, and important decision-makers are left out of the loop. Meanwhile, on the front line the troops are pedalling nineteen-to-the-dozen to keep the ship afloat, even if the rudder is pointing in the wrong direction.

Not sure I feel comfortable going beyond metaphor today, so I'll leave it there. Tin-hats on lads...

The Monday Grind

There are probably a lot of people heading off to work with a little more trepidation than normal this Monday morning. Grind it out, it's just another Monday...

There are more stressful jobs than trading Spot Foreign Exchange

No Shopping Today Please

Since it seems that only the consumer-tax-payer can save the world from the mess that the MBAs have gotten us into, I thought I would do my bit for the local economy today and go and buy a new laptop.

There is nothing particularly wrong with Sparkly Aph's laptop, it's just that, well, it hurts my lap. It weighs more than the underexercised hairy one, and since I don't have thighs like a Turkish weight-lifter, it can get very uncomfortable. Occasionally, while perhaps pondering a particularly thought-provoking, philosophical post from Daddy Papersurfer, I can drift off into my own little world, only to wake up with a start and find that I have lost the use of both legs for the rest of the day.

However, I then remembered that where I live they still refuse to open the shops on a Sunday. Modern day sausageland is so scared of offending anyone that when it comes to the choice between a blatantly obvious opportunity to kick-start their economy and the sensitivities of the 'keep Sonntag sacred' lobby, they'll go with the Follow MY Moral Compass Brigade every time.

When I first arrived in the Farterland, one of the first things I went to do was buy a car. I ran some errands on my first Saturday, ate a sausage, and then went to hand over a large wadge of the hard-earned, only to learn that car showrooms close at midday on Saturdays, and then do not reopen until the working week has really got into full swing. All of them. I considered this briefly, and it occurred to me that every car I have ever bought was on a Saturday afternoon (not including the clapped-out old deathtrap that Daddy Papersurfer wisely made me and Tiggz take back :-)).

Actually to clarify, the showrooms are open on a Sunday. I can, and sometimes do, pop over the Rhein to have a reminiscent/wishful wander round the huge Porsche centre if the church bells get too irksome. BUT they are absolutely, categorically not allowed to sell me anything. In fact Salespeople are forbidden by law from speaking to me, and therefore the only people on site are terminably bored receptionists who would rather be wandering down the local Champs-Elysees-equivalent peering into shop windows wondering what they would try on if any of them were actually open.

The counter-arguments for kick-starting the economy are so full of holes that they are barely worth mentioning. "Sunday should be a family day." My family wants to go shopping, feel free to do whatever you like with yours. "Shop assistants don't want to work on a Sunday." Let's run a poll amongst the gazillion unemployed and find if anyone would be interested in doing a few hours. At overtime rates. (My favourite) "There's only so much money that people will spend, you won't create any more by opening on Sunday." I, like millions of others are more than willing to spend cash. I would just like the opportunity, since I'm busy quite a lot of the time earning it.

If the global markets wouldn't mind just taking a break from implosion one lunchtime next week I might pop out and make a consumer electrical goods purchase, if that doesn't hurt anybody's feelings.

Taking Stock

Well that was the week that was. I'll wager (if betting hasn't been outlawed) that there are more than a couple of traders sitting over a quiet cup of coffee this morning just staring into space, vacant and shell-shocked, looking out of the window (the first time in 5 days they haven't been focussed on images 18 inches in front of their face), muttering inaudible, mono-syllabic answers to their loved ones...

Huh? Oh, right. Yeah, sorry... where was I. Well, it was clear that there was 'something up' all week. I don't mean the amphetamine-fuelled price action - we've had that before (Sterling's ERM exit, Asia crisis, LTCM and Enron collapses, 9/11, 7/7) and we'll have it again. Nor do I mean the barrage of sensationalist reporting - if I have to read the adjective "unprecedented" or the phrase "uncharted territory" in one more piece of analysis, I'll.. errm.. stop reading financial markets analysis. No, it was in the conversations. Let me explain.

Your average spot monkey is a seat-of-the-pants type chap or chappess. He is not fabled for intelligence. He is known for reacting fast, obliterating wrong prices and making crude non-PC jokes in the process. He thinks that a "liquidity crisis" is when they have run out of Laurent-Perrier Rose at the Brasserie Roque. He thinks "credit crunch" is a breakfast cereal. He thinks an "Investment Banking Model" is the latest, tasty intern hiring at Goldman Sachs. The fact that I have spent a week discussing the real meaning of these terms with monkeys all over the world is the clearest barometric indication that we were sailing remarkably close to the wind.

Like some terrifying fair-ground attraction, it was palm-sweatingly scary, and yet all rather exciting at the same time. Of course it was also another valuable learning experience.

Trywalker learnt what it is like to live, and trade through a genuine financial crisis. And he started to realise why the cornerstone of any market is 'liquidity' - you only fully realise this when it is absent. This will stand him in good stead.

FVJ learnt the meaning of the word "arbitrage" (more on that another time). Then he learnt the meaning of the word "wrath", after I foolishly gave him the responsibility of taking profit on a 2-year Gold forward position (it's so far in the money, surely he can't f### that up, I thought to myself). Finally he learnt about "near-death experiences" after he sloppily sent an order that had actually already been filled. UDH Boy was up all night trying to extricate us from that particular hole (there are a few things harder to get out of during Asian hours than 25mio USD/HUF, but not many), and will probably see the funny side of it in a year or so.

Us older hands learnt, or were rudely reminded perhaps, that complacency and disaster are never really far apart...


P.S. I do hope that Patsou held onto her GS & Citi stock, which rallied 20+% yesterday. It's a lovely necklace and would be a shame to have to hock it! ;-)

Phriday Photo VIII

I wonder what history will make of the first decade of the 21st Century. Terrorism, war, global warming, sub-prime mortgage-backed derivatives... we seem to be under threat from every angle. At least the governments and central banks are doing all they can to prevent the collapse of our financial system, our economies, and ultimately the quality of life we hold so dear.

The future of the US Investment Bank "fast-buck" business model, potentially a victim of its own greed, lies in the balance

Thank Heavens For The U.S.S.R.

We live to fight another day. AIG, having threatened to swallow the entire banking system in a systemic vortex collapse has been duly rescued at the last minute by the United States Socialist Republic.

Everyone is still a bit nervous and jumpy, but there were fewer vacant stares of dread around. In fact the blue-tooth headsetters were in a positively frivolous mood. As one wandered past I heard a snippet of conversation that went something like "So, ven you say es ist guaranteed, do you mean actually guaranteed or possibly guaranteed...?" Someone was clearly promising to do something for someone else, which meant something was happening. An encouraging sign.

As the mood has lightened a touch, I feel happy in posting this wondrous link sent to me today (thanks Motty Jr!). The two chaps in the background are clearly spot monkeys... ;-)

http://news.hereisthecity.com/news/business_news/8237.cntns

Hang In There AIG

I'd like to spend a while explaining why I think this is important but I am a bit pushed for time. Suffice it to say that if AIG goes under this week I think the ramifications will be unpredictable. And that is never good (in a financial markets sense). I am not keen to see failed institutions kept afloat for the sake of their size. Nor am I keen to see the socialisation of losses, when profits are so enthusiastically privatized. But most of all I am not keen to see the sudden implosion of our financial system that I feel is threatened. I don't offer that lightly.

I'd also like to take the opportunity to put this on record. Many people of varying importance are saying many different things at this time, and we are listening to all of them. Today John McCain, Republican candidate for the upcoming US Presidential elections said that he felt the US should allow AIG to fail to "avoid moral hazard."

I have heard a lot of crap but I am afraid to say that takes the biscuit. You, sir, are an utter ass. You, or whoever advised you to open your trap, deserves to be absolutely crucified by the Democrats for that statement and I hope it loses you the election.

(the above paragraph has been modified to fit your screen. And early morning sensibilities.)

Sad Farewell To Lehmans

I cannot say why it's a sad farewell. Many people are of the view that we should not mourn the loss of an Investment Bank (or any financial institution) - live by the sword, die by the sword, and all that. And they are absolutely right. And yet for some reason I had a soft spot for L Bros in the same way that I didn't for Bear Stearns.

Still we may all have to put sentiments aside before too long. Nobody else mentioned this to me yesterday so perhaps I may be off the mark here.. but it occurred to me that if Lehmans has to go through a forced asset liquidation sale this may open a can of seriously fat worms (have you seen the movie Dune?). Despite the fact that hundreds of billions has already been written off on the dreafully mis-priced sub-prime mortgage-backed securities, all of those paper losses have been based on arbitrary valuations. There is no market now for such instruments, and so their value has literally been calculated based on what size of loss each owner has been prepared to take. That is until now (possibly). If Lehmans has to sell assets piecemeal to the highest bidder (where one exists) this will establish a reference price for such assets. I could well be wrong, but my guess would be that in reality, most institutions would prefer not to know exactly what their remaining sub-prime portfolios are actually worth. Worry about that tomorrow, I guess...

One thing is for certain, and that is that there are now a bunch of very talented people looking for their next opportunity. Under normal circumstances they would be snapped up by the nearest bank but these are not normal circumstances and I fear that it might take a little longer than some people deserve. UDH Boy and I did discuss putting in a bid for their truly excellent FX dealing technology. Sadly we were thwarted by lack of cash, and the fact that the domain name udhboysomnambulistfxdealingplatforms.com was inexplicably already taken.

Speaking of UDH Boy, the collateral damage caused by Lehman's failure meant we were exceptionally busy in the latter part of yesterday. This meant that instead of rushing out the door at 6pm he was merrily dismantling the EURUSD market. UDH Girl was, as a result, made very late for the parent-teachers evening and did not see the funny side. The financial world as we know it is welcome to collapse, just not on her time. UDH Boy has put in for an extra bonus to take care of legal proceedings, and surgical reattachment of some rather vital organs.

Project Dennis Got Filed

After a full two days of utter Dennissness, I can categorically say that the Project has been filed.

Now, before p-i-g orangepeel spews his cappuccino over his iPhone and his unwitting fellow passengers on the commuter to Waterloo, I should point out that I don't mean 'filed' as in stuck on the top of the cupboard in dust magnet formation (I know that happened in 2000. And in 2004. And... never mind).

Sparkly Aph, equipped only with an armful of lever arch files, a creaking HP printer, and a standard issue hole-punch has literally created order out of chaos. It is actually quite remarkable that a project that is intended to do precisely that with cyberspace, can actually create a working chaos theory model on/with paper (lots of paper) in the real world. I think this is generally a good development - not only can I now find what I am looking for on the same day, the under-exercised hairy one is far less likely to keep getting mini-postits stuck up his cavernous snout.

Book Review

A while back I mentioned about this book arriving in the post, which prompted a flurry (well, two) requests for my thoughts on the book. It took a little longer to get round to this than I had hoped, but here goes…

“The Art Of The Start” by Guy Kawasaki. Sub-title: The Time-Tested, Battle-Hardened Guide for Anyone Starting Anything.

Arrrrggggghhhhhhhhhhhggghhhhh. This is the sound of frustration that follows painful discovery. Revelation that something that you ‘thought’ was not only perfect, but also exactly what you were looking for, actually has some fundamental flaw.

It’s the sound of finding your dream home and discovering that a 5,000-year-old burial site was destroyed to build it. It’s buying your favourite Picasso and noticing a small tear in the canvass. It’s meeting your ideal partner, perfect in every way, and then discovering that they used to be a man. Or woman. You know what I mean. You’re not sure whether it’s a total deal-breaker, but it changes the way you feel about everything. So close, and yet, so far…

On the front cover of the book is a tribute from Pierre Omidyar, founder of eBay, that starts like this:

“Guy has done it again – evangelised something useful and meaningful. This time…”

I paused at about this point and read it again. I don’t like the word evangelised. Actually, to be more specific, I don’t like evangelising. I like facts and information. I like opinions. I like discussion and reasoned arguments, even ones that I lose and that force me to reconsider my position. But I don’t like being arbitrarily told what to do or think because “someone believes that’s how it is” and moreover thinks that therefore I should believe it too.

Pierre Omidyar finishes his accolade with “And, please, read the last chapter first.”

After a moment’s consideration, I decided, despite his credentials, to overlook Mr Omidyar’s disconcerting use of the word evangelised and his advice to read the book in a different order than the author intended, and started at the beginning. I thought that I would save the last chapter as a surprise and incentive to keep reading if I got bogged down.

As it is, there is no need for such motivations, since I devoured the book at a rate of knots (the delay in the review has been for other reasons). First of all Guy Kawasaki’s writing style encapsulates the essence of his advice to entrepreneurs. Keep it simple, clear, concise and to the point. Less is more. Dispense with the bullsh+t. Secondly, the book is actually pretty short, it has big letters and not many pages. This is a good thing for busy entrepreneurs. Finally, the chapters follow a succinct, easy-reading format: Advice, example, thought exercise, and (the best part) FAQs. This is a man who has seen more powerpoint presentations than I have had bad Cable positions.

The style is great, and the content is pretty good too, if not earth-shattering. Most of what Kawasaki imparts is either common business sense, or plain common sense, which is fine. It is often very useful to listen to someone with more experience encapsulate your own understanding in greater clarity. You may know the way, but looking at a detailed road-map, at the very least is of interest, and usually adds some extra value.

Other parts I really found very useful. His formula for writing pitches & presentations depending on your audience is excellent for someone who probably does only 3 or 4 a year. His advice on ditching mission statements for a mantra in a start-up was thought-provoking and inspiring.

At about two-thirds of the way through, I was on the phone to p-i-g orangepeel, no stranger to a presentation or canny phrase himself, urging him to get a copy and start reading. This was to be our beacon. Our guiding light of entrepreneurial adventure...

I wish I had restrained my enthusiasm until I had finished the book. As I cantered through the pages I there was one thing in the back of my mind. I am enjoying this book a great deal, so what added bonus, what awesome revelation could be in the intriguing last chapter that urged Pierre Omidyar to urge me to read it first?

And then, like the end of so many good things, came Chapter 11. The Art Of Being A Mensch. He could have skipped this bit and finished with a salient piece of advice such as "be respectful to other people." But no. Instead we get instructions on how to adjust our moral compass so that we can get to heaven. Seriously.

I really don't want to be told how I must go about my life to 'be a good person.' Not in a book about Internet start-ups. I found the analogy between airline travel and reaching the three stages of paradise (yes, coach, business and first class on Singapore Airlines with "fully reclining seats and a power outlet for your...") to be scraping the barrel of the worst kind of West Coast self-help spurious evangelical tripe. Pass me the bucket.

Pierre Omidyar advises you to read the last chapter first. Somnambulist advises you to take a large pair of scissors to chapter 11 and just start from the beginning pretending it was never there.

If you don't have time to read the book, then check out his speech on the link below, which pretty much covers it. In fact, it's better than the book because they hook him off stage just before he gets to the end...

http://blog.guykawasaki.com/2006/06/the_art_of_the_.html


P.S. As it’s Sunday I thought I’d give you a bonus review for free. At the airport I recently picked up “Tycoon” by Peter Jones. Subtitle: The bestselling guide to making millions from the Dragons’ Den expert.

Utter pants. If you can’t write or contain your ego, but still want to sell books get yourself on telly.

P.P.S. Happy Birthday to masterchef, Jonambulist ;-)

Nikki

Yesterday would have been Nikki's birthday had my gorgeous, much loved and incredibly popular step-sister not lost her battle with cancer in May this year. Like everyone else who ever knew her, I miss her greatly. Forever young, N x

Don't smoke kids (or even pretend to!), it's not cool.

Phriday Photo VII

There's something deligthfully 'Aardman Animations' about today's Phriday Photo. I can't put my finger on exactly what - maybe the straight-faced comedy of the moment. I hope Wallace & Gromit wouldn't be offended.

I wonder if anything else was put on back-to-front this morning...

p.s. A vain hope, but yesterday's Sterling comments just for Patsou, on the micro-chance that it prompts her nostalgic return to the market ;-)

"GBP: Pound Extends Gains Against Crumbling Euro..But The Reason Lies Elsewhere

It wasn't that long ago that the only thing on a cable trader's radar other than cable was his bar bill at the Brasserie Roque. Nowadays you can't hit a price before checking the recent price action in EURUSD, EURGBP, EURYEN, XAU, WTI, Treasuries, S&P, CDOs and your astrology chart. Today we sat glued to the numbers not on Reuters or Bloomberg, but on Yahoo Finance, which streams the live Lehman Brothers stock price. That was lower, which meant the S&P was lower, which meant that EURYEN was getting sold, which meant EURUSD and XAU were offered and so EURGBP went down. And so did WTI for that matter. Cable actually showed some reluctance to stay too long below 1.7500, which meant EURGBP really took the strain. Some early two-way action in the 0.7950-75 area preceded a plunge through 0.7950 to test below0.7925. As soon as I know whether Venus rising is good or bad for Lehmans Brothers I'll let you know where the pound is going next."

Coincidence?

Now they say that lightning never strikes twice... but are they sure? You may remember a few weeks ago that a rather tragic accident befell Weston-Super-Mare's historic pier, under (in my opinion) very suspicious circumstances. And unless I am mistaken, nobody has yet been held accountable, despite the very strong lead that I gave Somerset police at the time.

Well, I couldn't help noticing that this week, on a Monday again, another Victorian pier, this time in Fleetwood, Lancashire, has been reduced to ashes. Cause unknown.

There was something distinctly familiar about the photo that I came across....

Interpol seek known terrorist, travelling under the alias El Um Yeknod

Big Bang Day

Today, September 10th 2008, has been labelled "Big Bang Day". I suspect this is because it is my Partner-In-Grime orangepeel's birthday, and Head Teach has a special surprise lined up. Will the mortar board and cane that I got them as a wedding present get an airing, I wonder? Anyway, contrary to badly-informed scaremongering press there is absolutely no chance of mini-black holes spontaneously appearing in the Richmond area this morning. And, despite galloping away from 40, it really, honestly isn't the end of the world...

In other news, they are switching on the Large Hadron Collider at the Cern facility on the French-Swiss border today, and I can assure you that the only black hole appearing in that vicinity is the one being created in my CHF bank account by Swiss architect-locusts (actually, come to think of it, I know a few FX traders nursing black holes of their own, but that's another story...).

The largest ever physics experiment in history is simply mind-boggling in its size, complexity, cost and objectives. Observing artificial conditions resembling the state of the universe around a billionth of a second after the big bang, the Compact Muon Solenoid, wryly described as the size of a cathedral, is a detector that will search for signs of dark matter, extra dimensions, and the Higgs boson - the so-called god particle.

Whatever clues to the nature of the universe that the LHC turns up, it's enthralling to bear witness to the achievements of those that conceived of, designed and built it, humbling to consider the giants on whose shoulders they stand, and inspiring to live in the age of the scientific method.

I personally will be scouring the 40 gigagazillion terabytes of data produced each day for signs of the Holy Whale.

Mankind's most advanced mechanism yet for "trying to understand the mind of god."

Mankind's most advanced mechanism yet for trying to understand the mind of "god."

Happy Birthday Mrs N-B ! ;-)

The Financial Press Is Sooo Dull

It's been a fun few days nestling in on the spot desk with the monkeys, and while everyone seems to find it a bit of a drag, I actually quite like writing a contribution to the daily market report. It gets circulated to all our clients and I think some of them even read it. As I finished yesterday's installment it got me thinking about the financial press in general. It's just so uninspiring.

If you've ever managed to venture into the market report pages of the Financial Times you'll know what I mean (unless you're Trywalker, who probably cuts out his favourite articles and sticks them in a Fenerbace-branded scrapbook at the weekend. He's young, bright and enthusiastic. It'll wear off). I know it's a fairly mundane subject matter, but I find the writing so stodgy and monotonous that I'd rather spend my time looking up the origin of the word hebetudinous.

Now, if I wrote the currency reports for the FT, they'd be more like my observations on the Sterling markets, as published yesterday and repeated below. Funnily enough, the FT has so far managed to resist the temptation to try and lure me on board...

"GBP: Europe Swiftly Corrects Asia's Fawlty Valuation Of Cable

In a great TV comedy moment, Basil Fawlty, exasperated with his Spanish waiter's constant misunderstandings, ushers him forwards and says, "Manuel, let me explain." Then he pokes Manuel roughly in the eye. Europe, in short, did the same thing to Asia's inflated valuation of cable, following the weekend's news of the US taxpayers' bail-out of their suspiciously named
mortgage providers. Pausing only to check that the pound really was on a 1.79 handle, dealers proceeded to clump bids faster than a John Cleese clip round the ear. The Far East low crumbled quickly and Soft PPI data helped encourage further tapping of the "Yours" buttons. The sellers weren't satisfied until a solid 3 figures had been wiped from Sterling's overnight high, and after hitting a low of 1.7564 a base in EURUSD helped the pound to rally back above 1.76. 1.80 now looks a long way away, and 1.90 may as well be Web 2.0. Wishing that you could get 2 cents to the pound again is like wishing that they hadn't stopped making Fawlty Towers after only 12 episodes. 'Fromage dur!', as they probably don't say in France. EURGBP appeared to have little interest of its own, ushered this way and that like Polly on the sidelines of the whirlwind FX farce."

Monday?

Wha...? Whaddya mean it's Monday? What happened to Sunday?

Oh well, best get ready for another week on the day job. Should be an interesting week too. Apparently the long-awaited new orga-charts will be revealed, informing everyone about the new responsibilities that they have either acquired or lost. It seems quite a number of people may in fact be relieved of the particular responsibility of having to come to work at all.

I should find out whether New Boss, Interim Boss or some so far unidentified third party becomes Actual Boss. Whichever one it is, they will have some interesting decisions to make in exercising their new responsibility, so I for one am thoroughly looking forward to the first conversation with AB.

Competition

It's a tough, dog eat dog world out there, and it seems like you have to fight for airspace in every direction you look. During the week it's the battle for the Golden Log with UDH, Trywalker and the rest (with Schadenfreude Boy picking over the carcasses), and then at the weekends it's taking on the cyberworld with Project Dennis.

Coming into the study to quietly write my daily musings seems like a therapeutic relief from the day-in, day-out struggle to be top dog. Until now. I got back from the day job yesterday and the computer had been commandeered!

The under-exercised hairy one has started his own dog blog. I wonder where he got that idea from, the sneaky blighter. Anyway, please don't encourage him, he'll only want a treat. Whatever you do, don't visit this page.

Copycat. Dog.

Phriday Photo VI

I have always been in awe of people who grow their own houses. The Papersurfers, for example, seem to sprout them everywhere. Lynne & Tony are currently whittling one out of palm trees on the Cote d'Azur.

I've always thought it would be a fascinating venture, but I know that I would probably start with the wrong type of soil or fertiliser, or have the plans the wrong way up. Think I'll stick to Dennis...

"Ja, Ja. Aber dass is how it vas on ze fax..."

Buzbag Reserv

Trywalker, kind friend and cultured young gentleman that he is, brought me back a fantastic-looking bottle of red from his recent holiday in Turkey. Apparently Daddy Trywalker recommends it very highly.

I'm dying to give it a crack but before I pop the cork I'd like to know a bit more about it. My wine books are getting a bit old now and were printed before the expert authors knew anything about Turkish wine. In fact most of them don't even recognise Australia as a producer of fine wines, which seems...never mind. Searches on the worldwineweb have provided unsatisfactorily scant details. Any ideas??

Please help me find out more about Buzbag!

The Golden Log

"Der Goldene Baumstamm" or more simply "The Golden Log" is a little trophy that is competed for amongst the spot monkeys. Well, except for Schadenfreude Boy, since he doesn't find such things amusing, and nor does he wish to participate in kindershizaauslander games.

TGL is awarded, and retained by, the last trader to receive a significant "gift" - a low-risk client trade that nets a decent profit on their book - thus signifying that said spot monkey has made his money through luck rather than skill. The name is a derivation from the old phrase "falling off a log", meaning something ridiculously easy to do...

There is no set value of a log and TGL is passed on by consensus of the other spot monkeys. As a result, the more that one tries to protest that gifts were actually generated from craft and sweat, the more likely one is to end up with TGL on their desk.

Trywalker, being the young, sensitive, superstitious type, absolutely detests receiving TGL, since he considers it a personal slight on his trading ability, and because Fenerbace once lost a football match within 2 weeks of him earning TGL 5 days in a row. This is bad luck for him, since all the freebies seem to come in his currencies :-)

In reality TGL is a somewhat inconspicuous yellow and black cup cooler. For months I have had the intention of replacing it with a proper piece of tackorama - I imagine a kind of plastic gold log sculpture atop a plinth and plaque - but have no clue where to even begin getting one. I've browsed in the windows of a couple of shops that do trophies, but to be honest they are near the Hauptbahnhof and I have a suspicion that if I wander in asking for "Ein Goldene Baumstamm, bitte," I could end up getting more than I bargained for. Any ideas welcome...

The closest Trywalker will come to winning Olympic gold...

Incidentally, being number 50 today, that makes this the "Golden Post", if not quite the "Golden Blog" ... orangepeel, you might want to start thinking about making space in the fridge for that bottle of Dom ;-)

More French Enlightenment...

I seemed to divide opinion a bit last week with regard to my panegyrical praise of our froggy friends. I managed to find someone who disagreed with basically everything I gave them credit for.

No matter, like John Cleese in a cheese shop, I am back for more, because I forgot one important thing that the French do better than the rest of us Europeans, and that is place names.

Forget your Stockports, your Birminghams, your Glasgows, your Malagas, your Maastrichts, your Frankfurt-am-Rheins and your Zurichs. You only have to look at a map of la belle France and luxuriate in the language of their names. Cote d'Azure.. Montpeilier.. St. Tropez.. Orleans.. Gevrey-Chambertin (ok, that one was just a birthday hint in case anyone needed an idea). It's all so evocative, I think I might have to go and book a last minute weekend away...

I wonder where the residents of Chevannes go on a Saturday night out

(sorry about the poor photography. I have vague recollections of being driven round a roundabout 4 or 5 times just so I could snap this!)

Back The Underdog!

I'm not really into boxing but I do like a good underdog story, and Rocky really was a great movie. The first one, that is, the sequels were totally forgettable. Or so I thought.

One of the later films had Sly up against Dolph Lundgren at his physically gigantic-est. It was a movie, and so, as unrealistic as it seemed, the thespianically-challenged hero won, of course. I guess it helped that he wrote the script too.

Any thoughts of said film had drifted into the long-term memory banks, and were probably headed for the synaptic trashcan until I stumbled upon a photo of the weigh-in for last weekend's fight between Nikolai Valuev and John Ruiz, which is without doubt a theatrical gem...

Competition is heated at auditions for the role of "Genie" in next season's "Aladdin."

Happy Birthday to my bro Samnambulist !! ;-) x