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Kill the banker?

March 6, 2012

With the skiing season seeming like it was going to come to a premature end but now  looking like it might be extended with snow forecast over the southern Alps over the next few days, I wanted a wintery feel to today’s photograph. What could be more inhospitable than this picture I found on Facebook of a ski slope I know not where called Kill The Banker. Being in English it is probably in the USA or Canada but I think the theme is clear. It could have been written as a slogan for Currencies Direct as many people who are not already customers and have thus had reason to curse their banks over poor exchange rates when moving foreign currency might find some comfort in this statement. There are several themes running here, it’s a black run, which in skiing terms means the hardest and steepest slope to ski, which may be considered a reference to how hard it is to borrow from banks at the moment, or indeed it might be a self-fulfilling prophesy, being a slippery slope all the way down to the bottom, something that a number of bankers I know have been suffering in the past couple of years. I have not mentioned the expression a run on the banks as that would be too obvious a joke for this fine upstanding column.

A black ski slope rather aptly named....

Talking of banks, my last meeting before setting of this morning for London and then Wednesday to Havana in Cuba for 10 days intensive work was yesterday at Cafe Latin in Valbonne. It involved Cornish Tsunami (search it in the search icon of this blog if you want the full story) mortgage broker Matt Frost from French Mortgage Xpress and old friend Rob Schols of ABM Ambro who have established a base in the village and naturally have asked me to open some doors for them. You will note that there is not yet a hyper link to their site as we have still to conclude negotiations for my fee or commission in the event of doing business together, but they cannot hold out for long as doors may slam in their face should they not realise the importance of gaining my tacit approval of their activities.

Earlier, I had been in Cannes for a meeting with Remax Cannes to ensure they prioritise Medina Palms but the Croisette was barely passable due to the number catering lorries busily supplying the beach restaurants due to the influx of black run bankers to MIPIM, the international property festival held each March in the town. Business was done, a Cannes Film Festival reception in May was organised and work concluded for the day, I headed for home in time for lunch.

Wayne Brown has given me early notice of a Red Radish rugby ragout. They are offering food and fun in convivial surroundings for the climax of the 6 nations rugby on 17th March, St Patrick’s Day promising loads of surprises, full details on the Red Radish website. I would go if I was back from Cuba in time, sounds like fun.

It seems that I have been trapped by that nice lady decorator into buying lunch tomorrow in Guildford for Mr and Mrs Clipbeard (formerly known as My Clipboard due to his sudden anal fascination with schedules and time keeping) in return for a lift from the airport. He received this epithet after he planned, instigated, orchestrated and subsequently gloated about the forced removal of my luxurious beard (Annoying Facial Hair he called it) by a coterie of public schoolboys in a restaurant “accident” or jolly jape as they no doubt considered it at the end of last year. Surely a taxi from Gatwick to Guildford would be cheaper?

Chris France

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