Nobody has called me yet to ask if I would like to contribute my share of the next 100 billion euro bailout fund, must be a problem with the answering machine perhaps. Still, just in case M. Sarkozy et Mme Merkel are reading this in a tea break at the ‘Hey, lets save the euro again’ conference the answer is no thanks.
I don’t remember ever gaining a single cent in benefit from dodgy loans by banks to countries that couldn’t afford to borrow the money – so I’m not keen on half my taxes going in payments to bail out the banks and bankers that did benefit.
I would happily join one of the burgeoning ‘Occupy Everywhere’ groups if there was one close to hand, but I think the closest to here is Paris, and by the time I get there they might have all gone home.
Although come to think of it a few weeks sleeping in a field with hundreds of French protestors would do wonders for my French language skills.
I suppose it might be more effective if I just ‘occupy’ my local village, bang a drum and wave a banner around – the locals would ignore me but every expat newspaper in France would rush over to see what I was making such a fuss about in no time at all. I might even get that 15 minutes of fame we are all apparently so keen on having.
Speaking of governments and money apparently France are having their credit rating assessed by Moody’s next week. Seems their decision to impose excessive taxes on French second home owners might not save the economy after all, and frankly I can’t say I’m surprised.
Luckily the socialist presidential candidate has a more cunning plan if he is elected which involves undoing some of the recent austerity measures, creating 60,000 new government jobs, and generally doing whatever the unions ask for. Not quite sure that sounds like a good way to keep France out of recession but at least it will make 60,000 people happy, which is a start.
Meanwhile I’m busy knitting woolly hats and refusing to shave so I can look cool in a field of young protestors – I’m pretty sure I could provide plenty of entertainment around the campfires by telling entertaining ‘true stories’ of some of the people I met when I worked in an investment bank…