This week we have all been able to watch as some ‘former’ bank executives have wriggled, squirmed, bleated and whined under aggressive questioning by the Treasury Select Committee; the qualifications, practices, manoeuvres, motives, fine-dining habits and honesty of these still-powerful and still-wealthy men were queried and ridiculed by the daunting panel before them.  Uncomfortable facts and figures were faced, sorry was said and culpability was alluded to. Reputations were ‘shredded’ and huge losses, including their relevant jobs, remained lost. 

Grunts of approval for this sharp-suited band’s discomfort could be heard throughout the length of the Dole Queue as the latest victims of redundancy waited to submit their own CVs for examination, all hoping to be judged ‘fit and proper personages’ to fill any available Situations Vacant.

Yet just a ‘google’ away, we learn that Sir Tom McKillop (former RBS chairman) retired early from RBS board following the government bail-out in October. He remains non-executive director of BP, chairman of the British Pharma Group, Vice-President of the European Federation of Pharmaceutical Industries and Associations.  Misys, the banking and software group, announced on 30^th January 2009 that Sir James Crosby was to become its non-executive chairman.  Until yesterday Sir James was a deputy chairman of the Financial Services Authority and has non-executive directorships of ITV and Compass, the catering group.  And so on.

Forgive me, then, if my heart does not bleed profusely that these powerful people lost one of their perk-peppered posts.  Forgive me if I feel no sorrow that they now may have only 3 ‘company cars’ in their roomy garages.  Forgive me if I do not weep to think that they won’t be enjoying sumptuous pre-Board Meeting dinners.  Forgive me if I do not sob for their lost bonuses. 

To be made redundant from one’s job is a grim and grave event.  To lose one of a few prestigious jobs and one of one’s astronomically high salaries is a different kettle of stinking fish altogether.

Saul February 13, 2009 at 09:58

It looks like the cat that swallowed the Ostrich!

Karen February 13, 2009 at 09:53

That poor fat cat in the picture (although – I think it’s my dog’s ambition
to be that size and get fed and never move).

Is it good I haven’t got a pension (I’ve lost nothing) or bad (I’ll never
have a pension – or a mortgage – or pay off my student loan…. etc etc…).

Anna Raccoon
February 13, 2009 at 10:38

Karen,
You’ve never had the pleasure of watching some half baked city
whizz kid swigging champagne out of the bottle whilst driving his Porsche,
and knowing that you are paying for it through your Pension fund
administration fees? Count yourself lucky!

I thank God daily that I resisted the temptation – and invested on my
own.

Coco February 13, 2009 at 07:16

Saul February 12, 2009 at 23:33

After Gingerly checking the Synapses, I concur.

Coco February 12, 2009 at 22:57

Jolly nice synopsis that made it easy on the synapses is how I would
describe this piece written objectively by Gloria Smudd.

I don’t feel nearly as sorry for them now ……………..

My Hubby took my car this morning ……….. with my door-keys attached. I have
been locked out until now whilst my friend who has custody of my spare key is
away for a few days.

My fingers have frost-bite and I left my brain by the gate ……….. Please
forgive me ……….. I will be with you all tomorrow X

Saul February 12, 2009 at 21:49

Ermm, hasn’t the eating process been linked to the fat lass problem?

Hear about the fat lass who wanted some thing that went from nought to 20
in 1 second for her birthday?

Her boyfriend bought her a set of bathroom scales.

Gloria Smudd
February 12, 2009 at 21:13

Now hold on a hippo-pickin’ minute! A fat lass has gotta eat, don’t she?
And ain’t there an on-line auction site to be monitored with terrier-like
attention? Yes to both those questions! So I cannot be here just now.
‘Kay?

Saul February 12, 2009 at 20:50

Trust her to Hip Hoppit when I just got here.

Gloria Smudd
February 12, 2009 at 20:46

Anyway, there’s food to be scoffed, so I gotta go …

Gloria Smudd
February 12, 2009 at 20:45

Yo! Sau’! Jus’ go wi’ the flo’, y’no? (How ridiculous!)

Saul February 12, 2009 at 20:37

Say it ‘aint so Glo.

Gloria Smudd
February 12, 2009 at 20:29

I ain’t just a Punster Munster, Mister!

Anna Raccoon
February 12, 2009 at 20:33

Nor just a ferreting funster – Nice post gloria!

Saul February 12, 2009 at 20:11

Could explain why Andy whizz kid acted like a recalcitrant schoolboy. He is
still picking up 60,000 a month as Banking advisor.

Gloria! Is this Punster turned Gamekeeper? Expect The Raccoon to descend
with a raft of puns. Only if she is Feline up to it.

Anna Raccoon
February 12, 2009 at 20:02

It does all smack of the famous whine – ‘my swimming pool has frozen
over’……

They really have zero idea of life as she is lived by the rest of us.