Wanker Bankers

James had a particularly bad day at the RBS office. As he pulled into his tree-lined driveway, he almost forgot to hit the remote for the walnut garage doors - a ding in his Daimler would have been the icing on an exceptionally unsavoury cake.

Martha, as usual, was at the front door to greet him. She sensed something was wrong. No smile on James’ face, no “Hello Pippin,” no humming “I did it my way” slightly out of tune.

He threw down his crocodile skin briefcase, narrowly missing one of the slender legs of the Chippendale side table.

After he poured himself a stiff G & T and slumped into the Chesterfield, Martha sat beside him. "What's wrong Jamie-Jim?"
"Those pinko lefties have capped our bonuses!"
Martha tried to be consoling, "Oh dear. I know how you love counting all the zeros on your bank statements."

James was getting more riled, "What's more, we're getting share options instead of cash!"
A little confused his wife asked, "What are share options?"
"As buggered as Oscar Wilde if I know. I'm a banker, not some doctor of economics! I take a lot of money from rich people, take a share for the bank, then pass it on to another bunch of rich people and I get a bonus. That's how its always been, until those Labour louts got in on the act."

There was a short respite in the conversation - Martha knew that her husband needed time to calm down when the topic of the Labour Party came up.

"Erm...should we go ahead with the dinner party in two weeks time dear?"
James thought for a bit..."Yes, but try and keep the numbers down to around thirty. Oh...and you'd better cancel the string quartet. Sorry Pippin, but we'll have tighten our belts a tad."

"I know dear. I've an idea. Why don't I get out some of your old bank statements and we can count all the zeros together."

"Capital idea Pippin!"