Sir Nathaniel Westminster and my credit card crunch

A call from his financial adviser alerts Sam Delaney to the seriousness of the financial crisis, and gives him food for thought

FIRST POSTED OCTOBER 22, 2008

My financial advisor calls with bad news. "I'm afraid all of your investments have hit rock bottom," he says, in the same tone of voice a vet once used to inform me of my dog's pancreatic cancer.

"Oh God, no!" I say, adding a tiny tremble for extra drama and sincerity. "Well, that's the credit card crunch for you," I say. "The what?" he says angrily. "I mean the credit crunch. Not credit card. Just credit in general. It's all getting crushed isn't it?" There's a silence.

My financial advisor intimidates me. In order to get round this, I often try to picture him as Sir Nathaniel Westminster - the be-suited, porcelain piggy bank that Natwest gave members of their Young Savers account once their balance reached a hundred quid.

My financial advisor intimidates me. In order to get round this, I often try to picture him as Sir Nathaniel Westminster

"I suppose you've seen what's happened to the markets this morning?" he oinks. "Hmmm, yes," I reply, in a manner that suggests I am peering over some half-moon spectacles at the Bloomberg Channel. I am in fact watching an episode of The Father Dowling Mysteries with the sound down while idly scratching my testicles.

"Now is not the time to panic sell," he informs me. "Sell what?" I think to myself. At the height of its value, my investment portfolio would have struggled to finance a trip to Londis for a packet of wine gums and some bin bags.

"Oh well," I say jovially, "what's nothing take away nothing anyway?" He doesn't respond. "That's right, nothing!" I continue. More silence. "Or is it in fact something?" I wonder out loud. "Don't two minuses make a plus? Hello? Hello? Sir Nathaniel? Are you still there?"

I don't think I'm equipped to get through this recession.