Chapter 8: Wall Street Blues and the Global Financial Crisis
NEW YORK! The heart of the global stock market!
“Oh, so that’s where New York is,” said Straw Puppy as we got off the Greyhound bus from California.
Our gang of goons helped us storm into the Flatiron building near Times Square.
“We’ve come to float our company on the stock exchange!” we shouted.
“This is a publishing company!” the confused editors shouted back.
“Sorry! We got our chapters mixed up!” we shouted again.
“Been there, done that!” shouted the editors.
Just then the Global Financial Crisis happened and the stock market crashed all around us. We sold our polo necks for tickets for a tramp steamer home to England.
As the ship sailed out past the Statue of Libertines, Straw Puppy and I stood on the deck and waved farewell to America. We had done our utmost to drag that nation into the twenty-second century but our vision was just too raw, too real, too commanding for the good old You Ess of Ay. But as the old saying goes “If you can’t change the country you are in, then you should change the country you are in.” Which I didn’t get at first but then Straw Puppy explained it to me. He drew a diagram and to be honest I still don’t get it.
Britain beckoned us. Blighty, that Sceptred Isle, that sling and arrow of outrageous fortune, home. Soon we saw the White Cliffs of Dover or at least that’s what we assumed they were but everybody else was shouting “ICE BERG!” Before you could shout “man the life boats” the ship was sinking and Celine Dion was singing and everything was becoming very confusing.