Went out to drinking last night with Jasmine, who has got a new, ageing Goth boyfriend. (It was the Intrepid Fox, a truly scary place. I am never going to the toilets there again, NEVER. ) One good thing was, I discovered all kinds of strange side-effects of the credit-squeeze. Her boyf does French polishing for very very rich people. (He is always having to rush out on French polishing emergencies, that is, some stupidly rich person will accidentally scratch a side table, and a neighbour is coming round! Oh No! Quick! Ring up a French-polisher and bribe them a thousand quid to come round immediately!) For the last month he has had NO WORK AT ALL. None. So, clearly, you have to be ludicrously stupidly rich to be unaffected by the squeeze. Stupidly rich isn’t good enough any more.
And one of the reasons why our firm is in trouble is that we represent a yoghourt brand that people drink to improve their stomach bacteria or something. (It made me make terrible, unforgivable farting noises, like a rapidly deflating balloon, when I tried it, so I never did again. NOT glamorous.) And apparently, when people are feeling the squeeze they stop eating special yoghourts. I wonder what the last things they give up are? The consensus last night was that they might be lipstick and chocolate.
