I just saw a woman take a cashpoint for everything it had. I figured out at once that this grey-haired, respectable, middle aged woman was operating on a tip from the highest sources (we get those here all the time in Lancing, West Sussex). Complete economic collapse was nigh. By morning society would be in tatters and she would be our new ruler.
If there was a "hands up, give me all your money" button on an ATM she'd have used it. Having carefully squirrelled away the handfuls of currency she'd acquired from the first card, out came card number two. This was serious. Somewhere, Mervyn King is probably doing the same thing.
On the way home, considering the meagre pickings of £50 I had managed to scrape out of the machine after she'd finished upending it and hitting the bottom like a ketchup bottle, and where this would leave me in the pecking order of the new social structure, I saw a puppy. That made me feel good. Even with civilisation in tatters, I realised, there will always be puppies. Hooray!
Broken, starving, desperate puppies. CURSE YOU, ATM WOMAN. I hereby serve notice to rebel against your new world order, provided I can get enough military hardware for about £50.67.
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