Dear Mark

There is no money.

Only kidding! Just a bit of British humour to welcome you to the little offshore call centre we call home. Don’t worry, there’s loads of money: if you are ever running short just print some more. That’s what I have been trying to convince my colleagues to do for months, but they just whisper ‘he’ll be gone soon’.

Anyway, when I say ‘print some more’, I really mean ‘buy bonds’ which are all stored in the basement next to the gold room. By the way, take a butcher’s in there: it’s filled to the rafters with the stuff. We took the Queen down for a look and she was dead impressed. What a laugh we had with her: she was amazed there was any gold left after Gordon Brown flogged most of it for euros. I had to explain that nearly all of it belonged to other countries, many of them republics. So she unfriended me on Facebook.

Now, a quick word about London: it’s not like the rest of Britain. In fact, it could declare independence and still be richer than Argentina or Saudi Arabia. But that won’t happen because it would just encourage the Scots to do the same. Speaking of which, you might have to visit Edinburgh at some point. Apparently they’ve got some banks up there too. I’ve left an Easyjet timetable in the drawer.

While you are here, you will need somewhere to stay. But that shouldn’t be a problem, as I hear they’re giving you $7,682 a week in housing benefit. I’ve got a mate who’s an estate agent and he should be able to find your wife somewhere nice.

Did I mention you get decent Wimbledon tickets if you flash your Bank of England staff pass? I don’t think Greg Rusedski is playing this year, but when it rains you might get a song from Celine if she’s in the crowd. They barred Alanis, because she was just so downbeat.

Talking of downbeat, that’s how you have to appear round here. Just keep saying the economic crisis is far from over and you won’t look a fool when things get worse. Hey, they might even give you back some the powers we used to have over the banks. And try and get Gideon’s (sorry, George Osborne’s) private phone number if you can. He won’t give it to me, but I hear some of the bank chiefs call him personally. Really bugs me that does.

Anyway, I had better get going as I have a fitting for my new ermine robe.

From a King to a Lord. Isn’t that ironic. Don’t you think?

Yours truly


P.S. You’ll also need to find a replacement deputy governor too. Paul Tucker has handed in his notice, muttering something about 33 years. Who knew!

Paul Lees, 1 July 2013

Paul Lees