Just for light relief from politics and economics and the
rest this from Autumn 2009:
So the tickets deal pays off, and the cheque is bulging in
my wallet, as I put on the best hat and head for town. I got enough to
spend time at Shanghai Lil's. OK, the signboard says different, but
downtown signboards cover a lot of sins.
It is a jumble of letters that don’t mean much, but a guy in
a bar told me in the old Hittite script in means place of human sacrifice, so
things have not changed.
Sidestepping the charity collectors outside, I get through
the doors with all the small change intact and look around the service
bars. There is some real action going on, they are hot on life insurance,
promising big money if you live forever. Subject to conditions of course.
So I stand there a while, just holding on to the cheque and
the credit slip, and take in the play. Suddenly there is a slim
blonde by me, even better looking than a footballer's moll. Then there is
a husky tempting voice, "Can I help you in any way?"
I take a long deep breath and consider the choices.
This could get interesting. "We have a new machine that makes it so
easy" she whispers. This worries me some. Ever since that
experience with the trampoline, I avoid machines in close personal encounters.
She guides me into a small room with not so many people,
points and says "Touch that". It is a bank machine, sadly, you
touch the screen and it plays games with you.
So I put in the slip and the cheque and out comes a pretty
piece of paper. I put it away carefully, Big A is keen on the
detail. Mistakes mean cold porridge in the morning and not a welcoming
fry up.
Then I smile at the blonde. "So how long
have you been with us?" she asks. At Shanghai Lil's they are
not so good on the detail these days, which is why I have to spend so long
there.
"8th August 1954", I rap out. "Since
the Army thought I would be better off working somewhere else after the Court
Martial." "Gosh", she says, "Not many people remember
the first time." I think she is still talking about banks.
And that was the end of it. Quite why she didn't make
the big play on life insurance, I do not know, it sort of hurt my
feelings. Outside, the charity collectors had stopped collecting and a
lone guy was picking up pieces of paper dropped in their excitement by people
leaving Shanghai Lil's.
I thought this was worth praise. "Good to see
a man working for the community" I says. He flashed a large
collection of gold teeth, "Eet isss moy dutty as a gud sittyzen"
he says with a thick Russian accent.
Back at the ranch, I give Big A the bank chit, and head for
the games room. I am just playing the "Overthrow The
Government" game running on the Army web site, when a screaming Big A
comes at me hard.
It’s even worse than when I buy a lottery ticket, and she
finds out. This time it is not me. This is a great relief.
It is the chit from the machine at Shanghai Lil's. It
has copied the entire credit slip and the cheque in perfect detail, with a lot
of other numbers. Big A tells me anyone getting hold of this would have
the story of my life in minutes.
This is bad news. My life has been an eventful
one. How many other people have spent a night on the run from the police
of five counties? And only for a couple of large doors.
OK, they were the West Riding of Yorkshire Police HQ doors
with some fancy signs we thought would look nice in the club house, but why the
big fuss?
Big A is firmly of the opinion that present banks are bad
for people. So I try my luck and suggest lottery tickets. OK, it
will be cold porridge in the morning. And I will have to make up for
it.
So tomorrow I go down to town again, and help the well
dressed Russian pick up some paper outside Shanghai Lil's. He may know a place
where I can find a real bank.
Wonderful.
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