Let’s say I have an asset, a lottery payout, a bond, a judgement, a mortgage note, something that is guaranteed to pay out a specific amount of revenue over time.
Well, I can sell that for cash money right now at a certain amount of risk surcharge (not that I do, but it’s a common practice). I can bundle large quantities of them to reduce my risk surcharge, I can group them from the most to least risky and sell them at market.
The Ratings Agencies will criminally overvalue them and the tranching will pollute the title so the underlying debt is potentially uncollectable. 23 States think so. Quite a hair trim!
I’m surprised there’s a housing market at all.
Accountancy is supposed to be boring!
In the bleak days of nineteen-eighty-three, as England languished in the doldrums of a ruinous monetarist policy, the good and loyal men of the Permanent Assurance Company– a once-proud family firm, recently fallen in hard times– strained under the yoke of their oppressive new corporate management.
Pushed beyond the bounds of decent and reasonable victimisation, the aged retainers take their destiny in their own hands and– Mutiny!
And so, the Crimson Permanent Assurance was launched upon the high seas of international finance.
There it lay, the prize they sought, the richest jewel in the crown of the I.M.F.: a financial district swollen with multi-nationals, conglomerates, and fat, bloated merchant banks.
Hidden behind the faceless, towering canyons of glass, the world of high finance sat smug and self-satisfied as their future, in the shape of their past, slipped silently through the streets, returning to wreak a terrible revenge.
Adopting, adapting, and improving traditional business practises, the Permanent Assurance puts into motion an audacious and totally unsuspected takeover bid.
And so, heartened by their initial success, the desperate and reasonably violent men of the Permanent Assurance battled on… until, as the sun set slowly in the west, the outstanding return on their bold business venture became apparent: the once-proud financial giants lay in ruins, their assets stripped, their policies in tatters.
Full speed ahead, Mr. Cohen! Up, up, up your premium. Up, up, up your premium.
Scribble away!
Up, up, up your premium.
And balance the books.
Up, up, up your premium.
Scribble away!
Up, up, up your premium.
But manage the books.
Up, up, up.It’s fun to charter an accountant
And sail the wide accountancy,
To find, explore the funds offshore
And skirt the shoals of bankruptcy!It can be manly in insurance.
We’ll up your premium semi-annually.
It’s all tax deductible.
We’re fairly incorruptible,
We’re sailing on the wide accountancy!Sail away!
Up, up, up…And so, they sailed off into the ledgers of history, one by one, the financial capitals of the world crumbling under the might of their business acumen,… or so it would have been… if certain modern theories concerning the shape of the world had not proved to be… disastrously wrong.
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