Let me tell you a story.
Back at the beginning of the 80s, there was a wee recession here.
At the time, I was in full time employment but we had just moved house and I had a missus, a large mortgage and a babby to feed. Money was tight. In fact money was not just tight – it was a case of hand to mouth existence until the next pay cheque came around.
We had a right little shit of a bank manager at the time. To give an idea of his cuntishness, he once bounced a £6 cheque [to the milkman] as I only had £4 in the account. even though my pay was due in the following day. He actually billed me £10 for the privilege of bouncing the cheque too.
I demanded to see the little turd and have it out with him.
The first thing I asked for was an overdraft, but he refused point blank, as it wouldn’t be “in the bank’s interests”. He proceeded to grill me on my day to day spending, under the pretext of “financial advice”. He offered to bail me out with a short term, very high interest loan [which I couldn’t afford to repay] on the condition that I mend my evil ways. He made it quite plain that I had to repay my mortgage and bank loans first and any luxuries such as food could come out of what small change remained. I told him to go fuck himself and left.
Does anyone see a remarkable parallel here?
Indeed, my little cunt of a bank manager was my own personal Troika. He would bale me out and for the term of the loan but he wanted ultimate control over my finances to ensure that he got is cash back even if it meant myself, Herself and the babby going cold and starving.
Now, would I have been sensible to enter into a lifetime agreement with the turd whereby he had control over my finances forever, in the odd chance that I might need a loan off him in the future? Would it have been a good move to let him have the final say on every single transaction for the rest of my life? Even now when I am retired, I would still have him looking over my shoulder and tutting every time I spent on something he didn’t approve of.
That is what this Fiscal Treaty shit is all about.
The Ultimate Control.
If anyone is wondering what happened after I left the bank that day, well we struggled on for a month or two, borrowing cash where we could.
Then one day I got a phone call from the bank. They told me there was a new bank manager and would I like to have a talk with him?
I went in for the meeting. He turned out to be a very nice chap. He couldn’t understand why I didn’t have an overdraft facility as I had a regular and permanent job. I told him about his predecessor. He laughed and said that the little shit had been retired, as he had been losing the bank business.
“Don’t ever repeat this” says my new manager, “but from all I have heard, he was a right little cunt.”