Me wallet’s as empty as me grandfather’s grave.

Good fek! Don’t say grave robbers!

No. He’s not dead.

In a neighbour’s kitchen

I wrote on it with an indisputable marker by accident.

You mean indelible marker.

Yeah. But if you can’t rub it out it’s indisputable too. Right?

When the starter at Cheltenham calls another totally unnecessary false-start

Would ya look at that useless bastard. He wouldn’t start a row shouting “knacker” in a halting site.

A Fine Gael politician explains the history of Ireland’s economic woes on KFM Radio

The bankers and the builders were like two dogs in heat down an alleyway. What was needed was to throw a bucket of cold water over them. But no. What did the Fianna Fáil government do instead? They jumped in and made it a lurid ménage à trois.

The currency may have changed but the managers are the same – a shower of punts and bankers. In fact, they are worse now than they ever were.

All commentators (not you – you’re a commenter – I mean the analysts who get paid to comment) are predicting a wave of mergers and acquisitions within the banking sector, possibly with only the big two, AIB and BoI, remaining in Ireland.

Now if I were about to accquire something (like a pint) and you were to hit me up for a few quid I wouldn’t entertain you. No, because I’d be holding onto my money to make that purchase. Likewise, if I were about to be acquired by or merged with (say, with the hot chick over the road), I would want to appear solvent, if not wealthy – a good catch.

Either way, I’m not giving you a penny.

The Labour party will this week move a motion (that phrase always make me giggle) that the government take action to force the banks to ensure credit streams (that makes me giggle too, but not as much) be made available to small businesses. Of course it will be voted down – Cowen and co. are working on their own deal with the banks behind closed doors. The banks are saying “let’s get this merger and acquistion business out of the way before we dish out any credit” and Cowen is saying “well okay so, as long as you keep the big boys going – the builders have houses to sell”. “Grand. We’ll do a few mortgages then”.

Eugene Sheehy, madra mór in the AIB, said as much last week: The banks are “open for business” and trying to “get the housing market moving”, but that “funds are not available for working capital”.

He also said “it is not in anyone’s interest – either customers or banks – to lend money to people who cannot repay it”. Now that really makes me laugh – for fuck sake isn’t that just what he and the rest of the punts were doing these last ten years?

Small businesses are folding by the minute. Their customers can’t pay them. They, in turn, can’t pay their suppliers and they too fold.

Small businesses which have a viable market can’t raise the cash to buy the raw materials they need or pay the wages. And they fold. [See the case study below]

A special fund managed by the Europrean Investment Bank is available to the banks to support these customers specifically. But the banks are not availing of it. Why? Because then they would have loans on their books that they owe and loans that they are owed. They would not appear attractive to a suitor, nor, as the suitor, would they appear an attractive bedfellow to the object of their advances.

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Case Study

Jack and Mary have worked for the same small company for some five years now. One day, Mary suspects something is up when she notices the boss staring at her through the window of his office.

He calls her in.

“Mary”, he says, “I don’t know any other way to put this. The situation is killing me. I can’t go on like this any longer.

I going to have to lay you or Jack off”.

“Is that all?”, replies Mary. “I thought for minute I was sacked. Here, take one of my tissues. I’ll wait outside”.

Pricing services is something all businesses have to do carefully so as to ensure a return.

Tradesmen often use “cost of materials multiplied by 3″ as a rule of thumb to build in time/labour into a quotation. Personally I charge x per hour for my time. If that hour is to be spent giving a course, then I charge xy+z, where y is the hours preparation needed and z the cost of materials handed out. In both cases the customer knows in advance what the final bill will be.

In the case of a mobile phone company the tariffs are so complex that it is virtually impossible to predict exactly what your bill will be in advance. Even if you have a good idea of the minutes you will spend on the phone they are billed at so many varying rates depending on time of day, type of number called etc., that the whole business just becomes unfathomable. If you ever get it right, it is most likely because you haven’t used up the free minutes in your package – you have paid for unused time.

Similarly if you enquire about putting money on deposit the bank will list off what the interest rate for the amount in question is currently (but that it could change) and tell you about how that rate translates into a % APR or AER, which of course may, or may not, be subject to DIRT. Translates? What? How?

But we toddle along making calls on our mobiles to the banks and never knowing what we will win or lose at the end of the day. Why? Because it’s just so complex we are resigned to take their word for it.

Banks and mobile phone companies thrive on this complexity and use it to their advantage, often increasing that complexity to hoodwink us. The bookmakers invented it.

Granted some things are acceptable. Take an over simplified example: 10 horses in race with a theoretically equal chance of winning. Statistically the odds for each are 10/1. The bookie will set the odds at 9/1. This is called an overround book and in practice is a far more complex calculation, but we accept the bookie needs to take a cut for their services.

However, overrounding occurs in other situations. When a horse at 6/1 wins in a deadheat you would expect to be paid on odds of 3/1. Wrong. It will actually be 5/2. Another somewhat complex calculation.

Tattersalls Rule 4 is the bane of the punter’s life. If a horse is withdrawn at a late stage and insufficient time is available to reset the odds, then a deduction is made from any winnings based on the odds that horse was at the time. It can vary from no deduction to 90c in the €.

There are many, many, many, many more rules that affect payout. And to further complicate matters, individual bookmakers may, at their discretion, lessen the deductions or increase the prices in the guise of special offers.

See where I’m going here? No matter what odds it says on your winning docket, you can not be confident that is what you will be paid out on.

While the bookmakers invented complexity to confuse the customer and other businesses followed suit, my punter pals tell me of a case of a reverse knowledge transfer from the phone companies. Here’s the way it works.

A punter hands in a docket just as the race begins. (The local betting chain accept bets up to 10 seconds after the off as a favour or special). This is scanned in, as you would an photograph into your computer, the exact time is automatically recorded in their computer system, a photocopy of the docket is returned to the customer and the information on the digital copy is later manually entered into the system by the staff.

If the horse wins but the docket was scanned in past the 10 seconds after the official off-time (as transmitted from the racecourse system to the bookie’s system) the bet is declared void and only the stake is returned.

Fair enough you’d say, the staff, as humans, can’t be expected to monitor the off-time versus bet-placed time accurately and especially so in a busy shop.

But here’s the scam. If the late bet is a losing one, it remains valid and the stake is not returned.

Suspecting this to be the case one of my pals and I organised an experiment. We wrote out two dockets. 1€ on the short-priced favourite (expected to win) and €1 on a rank outsider and presented both as close to the passing of the 10 seconds as we dared. (Any later, and the staff member would know it was too late). We made sure to pass the one we expected to lose win* over the counter first. [*Hat tip to emorindo for correcting the wording.]

Sure enough the favourite won and we were told the bet was void as it was late. When we presented the second docket we were told it was a losing one. When pressed about the timing the staff member told us it was valid as it was placed before the 10 second grace period. She even allowed us see that on her screen.

The conclusion was the software detected a loser and clocked back the timestamp. It begs the question whether wining bets placed, at say 8 seconds, are clocked forward past the 10 mark. That is an experiment we have yet to conduct.

Bottom line, complexity, but a little more in this case. It is akin to being billed for unsed minutes on your phone tariff.

When you don’t know about something, it’s best to go find out about it. I wasn’t invited to the do so I did some reading and talked to my neighbour instead. I now know my sukuk from my takaful.

There are a myriad of financial services and terms, and a long history to Islamic finance. While it is all very interesting it boils down to two core elements:

1. The Prophet taught that money has no intrinsic value. A Muslim cannot lend money to, or receive money from, someone and expect to gain. To make money from money is forbidden. Hence there can be no interest involved. To make money from trade or assets is fine – in these cases money is being used productively.

2. It is all bollix. Total and utter bollix.

I should clarify element 2.

Muslims, like everyone else, need finance. To buy a house, a car. To put the kids through school. Start a business. Whatever. But they can’t take out a loan as that would mean paying interest. Some Muslims have spare money and would like to put it to work. But they can’t make loans as that would mean receiving interest. See the problem?

The solution is simple. The party that needs a new car, costing say €20,000, does a deal with the party with the cash whereby Mr. Moneybags buys the car and Mr. Driver buys it from them over a number of years. At the end of that period Mr. Driver has paid Mr. Moneybags €23,000. This may be termed hire-purchase, but as that implies interest, it is called Ijara-wa-iktana.

Similarly Mr. Familyman could enter into an agreement with Mr. Moneybags whereby a house would be bought by the latter and bought over time by the former. The difference here is that ownership would be transferred gradually. This may be termed a mortgage but again that implies interest so it is called Ijara with diminishing Musharakra.

See why it’s all bollix? It’s just the same damn thing dressed up differently. That hot toddy you like before bed isn’t drinking if it’s for medicinal purposes isn’t it?

Those bankers attended a seminar to learn a bunch of new terminology. They’ll now go back to their offices, design a new set of brochures and tweak their IT systems a bit. And continue to sell the same loans. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.

The discomfort of having had a size nine rammed up his arse dissipated quickly, and the dog was delighted with all the excitement and rummaged about with me. But our torch-light search proved fruitless. Fruitless like the butcher’s.

Obviously he had continued looking long after I had given up and the next morning I found them in his kennel. Chewed to bits. Nothing but a few shards of glass and mangled metal remained. Another size nine up the arse, then I rang the optician. No problem, Primal, come in immediately. You’re nearly due for a check-up anyway and shur your PRSI will cover some of the cost. I was glad of the last bit as money was tight.

The optician took pictures of what was left of my glasses to show her friends. No messing. She reckoned an 18-wheeler wouldn’t have caused such damage. I made a mental note to buy a pair of pointed size nines.

I got new specs a couple of days later and was told to expect the refund cheque from the social insurance in one week.

As I said, money was tight, and six days later I withdrew cash for emergency supplies. I don’t remember for what. Probably some beer, a book and some beer. No problem I reckoned. I’d have the cheque the next day and lodge it before the direct debit for my phone bill hit.

No cheque arrived. I called the optician. My cheque had gone up in flames when a post office truck caught fire. How unlucky is that? If I fell into a barrel of tits I’d come out sucking my thumb. They told me not to worry – a new cheque had already been sent. But I was worried – the phone bill. I checked my account and found I was shy just €4.90.

I jumped in the car and rushed to the bank. It was drizzling and I pulled a baseball cap down to keep my new glasses dry. These were never to be damaged. Despite being wet and grumpy I managed to be polite and held the door open for the guy coming in behind me. We chatted about the weather and how busy the bank was while in the queue. At the counter I produced a €5 note and my card. The teller was jumpy and fidgety. Obviously having a bad day and I was making it worse wasting his time with a measly fiver.

But I held my composure and even held the door for someone on the way out. I was really polite. The dog was even spared another bout of size nine when I got home.

That afternoon there was a loud knock on the door. I looked out the window and there was a cop car at the gate. I opened the door to Mark, one of the local Gardaí. Howya, Primal. Bit of excitement today, eh. You weren’t scared were ya? Excitement me arse. A pure hoor of a day. What are ya on about?

The guy I held the door for at the bank and chatted to in the queue had moved to the foreign exchange counter while I was being served. He produced a replica gun and was handed over €4,000. The teller I dealt with had seen him and hit the panic button. Hence, his edginess.

Leaving the bank, apparently I held the door for the robber again and left with him. We had even crossed the street together where I got into my car and he stole another.

The Gardaí ran the CCTV footage and you can imagine what they concluded: Two guys enter the bank together. One with his collar pulled up and a baseball cap down over his eyes. The other with sunglasses. Both join the queue and chat away to each other. One leaves that queue and produces a weapon. The other does a token transaction. Then both leave together.

I was the accomplice in their mind. That I’d done a transaction on my own account didn’t mean anything. I could have used a stolen card. So I had been the subject of a manhunt.

Mark was able to tell me I’d stopped on the way home to buy a paper and that I’d pulled in another time to talk with a woman. There were two plain-clothes lads following me but hadn’t approached in case I too was armed. They planned to stop me on a quiet stretch of road. Luckily I was ruled out of the investigation before that happened.

I had a great laugh about it with Mark while making my statement. I couldn’t wait to tell all my mates. But that I wouldn’t have to do. The TV stations showed the video footage on every fekin bulletin that day. Without my face blanked out. Crimecall did the same for two weeks in a row. I couldn’t walk into a house, shop or pub for weeks after without everyone putting their hands up. The dog took to keeping his arse to the wall.

All of these, we are warned, must never be written down. We must memorise them and eat the slip of paper they came on and possibly shred your crap, just in case. You never know what geek has hacked into your pipework and hidden a poo-cam in your loo.

My fear of forgetting one of these, passcodephobia, (not to be confused with passcodaphobia which is a fear of going to the toilet after eating fish – the bones you know) has been getting gradually worse.

Passwords are not too bad. I tend to use about ten base ones in a variety of combinations which gives me about 50 unique codes. Numbers I remember by directions or shape. 9713 is a square. 0856 is up, up, right. Get the idea? Try it on your phone.

Yesterday I cracked. For the first time. I could not, not matter how hard I tried, recall my phone PIN. Having exhausted everything from isosceles triangles to down, outside, left-a-bit, I had to resort to getting my PUK from the website and resetting the PIN. No big deal. No harm done. But now my passcodephobia is worse than ever. If I forgot a PIN I use frequently what about all the others.

My head is just too full of codes. It can’t take any more. Now what’s my WordPress password so I can post this?

*Have you ever noticed how we all say PIN number? Personal Identification Number number. And we say Automated Teller Machine machine.

Well it’s my turn now. Step away from the keyboard, Mac.

Let’s face it. The AIB runs the Financial Regulator. Just as eircom runs ComReg. AIB are the big boys. They can do what they want and get away with it. They pwn the regulator! Extrapolate that and you realise they pwn the government too.

When other banks offer better rates and deals to attract customers, the AIB just might, if they feel they can spare 0.00001% of their billion euro profits, do the same, months later.

Because AIB are the biggest player they can offer the biggest range of services. With the exception of BoI the other banks are just credit unions with alloys, spots and go-faster stripes. AIB has it all and that’s why I’ve stuck with them this long.

When AIB announced they would be offering free banking I looked into it immediately. All I would have to do would be to pay one bill online or by phone once a quarter. No problem. I do that anyway. And I would have to make one purchase per quarter using my Laser card. Oops! A snag here. I didn’t have one. I had an old fashioned Banklink card. But the nice people in AIB knew this and wrote to me telling me how to replace my Banklink with a Laser. So I phoned the nice people and asked them to go ahead. No problem, sir. You will have your new card in two weeks.

That was so long ago I can’t remember what year it was. God was still sporting short trousers then. And I know we’ve all passed a lot of water under the bridge since.

I do remember calling six weeks later for an update. We are unable to process you request over the phone, sir. You will have to visit your branch. My account was opened at a branch in another town 24 years ago. With internet and phone banking there was no point transferring it to a local one. I couldn’t be bottomed visiting my branch so I left it at that.

This gave me time to think. I pay a government stamp duty of €10 on my Banklink card. I would have to pay €20 on a Laser card. Well, not exactly. I could pay €10 if I used the Laser only in ATMs or if I used it only for purchases, but if I used it for both I would pay €20. But to qualify for free banking I would have to use it for purchases and it would be no use to me if I didn’t use it at ATMs. So free banking was going to cost me €10 extra. The difference between the extra duty and the savings I’d make wasn’t great enough for me to bother switching.

The nice people in AIB wrote to me again this week. I am being automatically switched to a Laser card. I have no choice. The letter was dressed up to look like AIB were doing me a favour. I would have greater protection against fraud with chip and PIN technology.

I can’t help wondering if AIB are pandering to the revenue commissioners on this one. Here lads, how’s about we get you €10 extra from all our customers and you can owe us a favour?  We have a few things in mind.

The thing that’s really bugging me is the government stamp duty was brought in by Charlie McCreevy as a tax on banks. Not on customers. Or at least that’s what he told us at the time. But neither he, nor his successor, batted an eyelid when AIB et alia passed these taxes onto the consumer. But then, AIB pwns the government.