Credit What? Coping With the Big Crunch

So, this, what is it called again? The ‘Credit Crunch’ is it?  Remind me because it’s hardly been mentioned at work, at home, on the Tube, in the shower, at the vets, during sex, at dinner or anywhere else. Why the newspaper is choosing to ignore the looming recession and focus solely on BBC re-runs of Only Fools and Horses is slightly confusing. Please, someone, comment on this monumental shift in the world’s financial stability.

Of course, I am being more sarcastic than a fat lesbian hiding insurmountable insecurities; the credit crunch chat and relentless reporting has gotten to me. Not one to catch on to public hysteria early; it was more 12/11 than 9/11 for me… but I got there.

We’re all aware that the management behind the credit crunch is the same management behind the Spice Girls. Despite being awful and unwanted, it has indoctrinated itself into our social psyche and is the talking point despite it being an obvious blight on humanity. I look forward to Credit Crunch Walker’s crisps and saving the Pepsi tokens to get the unreleased Credit Crunch single…‘if you thought you were broke and miserable before, then you’re really fucked now…la la la’, I assume it will go.

This is something that must be graded on a curve. ‘Crunch’ implies a simple movement of which one can influence the intensity, amount and longevity. For some it’s less of a ‘Credit Crunch’ and more of a ‘Credit two hours with a Rocky Balboa’s personal trainer’. When it comes to the credit crunch we are all haplessly trying to pin the tail on the donkey; we can try and predict the outcome but with the agony of choice and limited knowledge it‘s more likely we will pin the tail on our aunt who‘s smoking in the kitchen and getting smacked in the head.

So why bother?

Like asking too many opinions on a relationship issue, the polarising opinions of newspapers and self-proclaimed experts have left us none-the-wiser as to what will be. We are Stevie Wondering the maze of possible outcomes and trying to predict a future that we have little influence over. This uniting problem should alert us all to the fact that life is a moveable feast that we can never solve, predict or prepare for.  Like a misprinted Rubix Cube. Or a woman.

The financial world is similar to the medical world, it is easy to be intimidated by something that can have such a profound effect on our wellbeing and lifestyle but which we cannot control or understand. We look upon doctors, surgeons and financiers as dual harbingers of doom and beacons of hope. Hanging on their every word like a teenage girl would a topless Zac Efron at a pool party.

In these matters we are very aware of our lowly positioning as the crouched hairy man in the evolutionary image. Much like a caveman would be impressed by fire created from a lighter we have no understanding as to the inner workings of it. Financially speaking I am the young man who is blown away by skilled guitarists yet is intrinsically aware he will never comprehend, experience or harness a talent of that magnitude.

Me, despite being more focused on getting the ‘black’ off my table than a snooker finalist, with my financial organs terminally riddled I do care about this crunch, and any money I put into my debt pot acts as chemo – not to save but to temporarily preserve.

The crunch in London seems to have hit the successful harder than those of us with ‘credit-cancer’ but this doesn’t mean that we should raise our inner flagpoles and salute monetary destitution just yet. Yes, those with nothing to lose cannot lose anything and those with everything can be ‘cut down to size’ as one of my bitter counterparts put it. He’s gay and no stranger to a catty quip. Given his unemployed status and insatiable promiscuity I suggested he claim ‘knob seekers’. His drug-addled brain (courtesy of us tax payers) texted me five hours later saying he ‘got it’.

My boyfriend is a young entrepreneur whose grand concrete monolith of success almost cast a permanent, and may I add entirely destructive, insecure and unnecessary shadow over our relationship. Having come to look fondly at my role as paraplegic Robin to his all-encompassing Batman, and genuinely admire his prowess, I am deeply concerned for his investments. Having none of my own I cannot fully understand the pressure he must be under but I am certainly not revelling in our new-found financial equilibrium. Some people are watching with glee as privileged turrets crumble and once-seemingly invincible castle walls corrode to reveal a level playing field. Whether the field is level or not, those with sporting prowess will win, regardless of stature.

However, the attributes that gained many of the ‘more fortunate’ people with ‘stuff’ will prevail far after the you-know-what has retreated. Like a house destroyed by fire, there will be remnants of the past that will survive and the things that made my boy successful will prevail; as will the things that made me penniless and irresponsible will too. Let’s hope he’s paying into a joint pension.

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