Exclusive Interview: The Pound

You know what I’ve never done on this site before? An interview.

That’s because nobody wants to talk to you.

Today, and for the first time ever, I bring you an exclusive interview with The Pound.

Bullshit! You can’t interview The Pound.

Are you its agent then?

You know perfectly well what I mean.

Oh, right. Let me guess. The Pound is an abstract concept incapable of thought or communication and hence you can’t interview an abstract concept?

No. You can’t interview The Pound because it’s effing dead!

I already thought of that.

Death need be no obstacle now that we have pierced the Great Tesco Value Divide.

Oh no! Not more of your low rent mystical crap?

Damn right! This will be great for Halloween.

Halloween is for morons!

Woo!

Don’t do that again. It wasn’t funny last time.

Woo!

Please don’t…

Woo!

I can’t be bothered with this.

You’ll be missing out on the financial journalism scoop of the decade. Not even Peston got this interview.

Woo!

Whatever. I’m going to get a sandwich. Let me know if you decide to stop talking bollocks.

Good. That’s got rid of him. The spirits don’t like those with sceptical auras disturbing the Great Tesco Value Divide. Now lets get started.

Woo!

Woo!

What’s all that racket? You looking for me?

Woo!

Stop saying “woo”. I’ve had enough aggro already. What do you want?

You are supposed to say “WHO DARES DISTURB MY REST?”

Yeah, that as well. Who are you and what do you want?

That’s not very ethereal.

You know what’s not ethereal, mate? A smack round the loaf with fifty 2p pieces in a sock, that’s what. Now get on with it. I haven’t got all day.

Surely, if you’re dead, you have all of eternity?

Nah mate. I’m playing Monopoly with the Deutsche Mark, French Franc and ECU later, and the DM don’t like it if we start late.

OK, I’ll keep this short. So, um, can I ask you about Brexit then?

Piss off.

The new plastic notes?

I refer the ‘onourable gentleman the to the reply I gave some moments ago. (Berk.)

The new Pound coins?

I suppose they are a bit better than those awful old ones but what a way to go out…

How do you mean?

I used to be written on paper by people who cared. Each note was signed, numbered, listed and crossed off when it was sent back to the Bank of England. I was shown respect. Then that ghastly Maggie Thatcher only goes and turns me into this ‘orrible yellow coin and every twat going starts making knock-offs in their sheds. There’s no dignity in that.

I mean the bit about “going out”.

You know. Out of silver, out of gold, out of the ERM, out of the EU, out of fashion, out like a light, aht the bleedin’ window…

Um, so you liked silver?

Yeah. I mean, I know it’s just another metal, but it was something people respected. People still call me the Pound Sterling but I can’t help thinking that they are just taking the piss now.

I doubt that. Most of them don’t even know what it means. It’s just your name.

Sod ’em.

Not bitter and twisted then?

I don’t want to talk about Brexit!

I didn’t even mention…

Just don’t. OK?

OK. One last question. Why do you sound like a cockney?

I am a bleedin’ cockney! Don’t you know nothing mate? Bank of England. Five minutes from St Mary-le-Bow! Born within the sound of Bow bells? Good thing the Bank vaults are soundproof or I’d never have got any bloody kip at all.

OK. I suppose that makes sense. Well, good luck with the Monopoly.

Cheers, mate. Hey, I don’t suppose you can spare a Euro or two?

Woo!

Berk.

Right. Lets see the Financial Times top that.

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October 21, 2017. #Brexit, Money, Silly, Spooky nonsense.

2 Comments

  1. Rik replied:

    Really, it’s naysayers such thee who are giving Brexit a bad name. C’mon, the whole world wants to pay with us ;)

  2. Woo Pound replied:

    Woo!

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