I Promise To Pay
The Bearer On Demand...
I weaved my wheeled
shopping bag through London’s Threadneedle
Street, avoiding the approaching herds of
reindeer and flocks of camels.
The imposing façade of the
Bank of England soon rose before me. I went
inside and approached the reception desk.
‘Can I speak to Andrew
Bailey?’ I said.
‘Have you come about
those notes he signed?’ enquired the
receptionist.
‘That’s right.’
I removed a bundle of twenty pound notes from my
pocket. ‘It says on these that Mr Bailey
promises to pay the bearer on demand the sum
listed.’ I pointed to the phrase.
‘It’s just that with all the financial
uncertainty at present, I thought it might be
wise to exchange them for the actual wealth they
represent.’
‘It was rather rash of
him to commit to that in writing,’ sighed
the receptionist. ‘What sort of wealth would
you like to exchange them for?’
‘I hadn’t thought
about that,’ I admitted. ‘What sorts
are there?’
‘It’s all about
finding things that have some generally agreed
intrinsic value,’ she explained.
‘Animals are very popular because you can
ride them, eat them, use their skins for clothes,
and you can breed more.’ She consulted her
computer screen. ‘There aren’t many
cattle, sheep, reindeer or camels left, but I
could let you have some elephants.’
‘I live in a one
bedroomed flat,’ I said. ‘Have you got
anything smaller?’
‘Bars of precious
metals used to be in demand, but since the price
fell you get rather a lot, and they’re very
heavy.’
‘I’ve only
brought this small, wheeled shopping bag,’ I
explained, ‘and I’ve also got a bad
back, so I don’t want to be lifting ingots.
What else is there?’
‘In some parts of the
world, women are considered as property and
indicators of wealth,’ she replied.
‘Mind you, that’s not PC in twenty-first
century Britain, so you wouldn’t be
interested in the virgin slave girls.’
‘Virgin slave girls?’
‘One of the worst
purchase decisions Andy ever made on the
convertible currency markets. He exchanged a
thousand herds of perfectly good South American
llamas for two hundred harems.’ The
receptionist shook her head in despair. ‘Now,
we’ve any number of young, attractive,
obedient, scantily clad virgins that nobody wants.’
‘Appalling,’ I
concurred. ‘Just out of interest, what price
are they fetching?’
She again consulted the
computer. ‘Currently, one hundred pounds
each.’
‘I think it’s
important to diversify an investment portfolio.’
I said. ‘Perhaps it would be wise to buy
some?’
‘It’s up to you,
although there’s significant volatility in
the market. You could find their value plummets
tomorrow, and your investment would be of no
value for anything other than mindless, non stop
sexual gratification.’
I watched others leaving
the Bank with animals, cloth, jewels and spices
from distant exotic lands, and I considered my
options.
I counted out my bank notes.
‘I’ll have four virgins and an elephant,
please,’ I concluded.
That evening, I looked from
my bedroom window to the parking space outside my
flat where faithful Jumbo was settling down for
the night. I then glanced at my bed where my
remaining assets were safely stored.
I reflected on the benefits
of wealth in tangible form and wondered how paper
currency had ever caught on.
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