Markets Snort Coke, Confuse Iceland and Ireland

Manhattan – For at least two years now Irish government policy has been dictated by the demands of international bond markets, with the government justifying each new cut in government expenditure as “necessary to appease the markets.”

But who exactly are these international bond markets? Our reporter spent a day following one of them to understand the world of international bond trading.

DeQuincey said Patrick Bateman was a great role model.

DeQuincey said Patrick Bateman was a great role model.

“We’re the people who make the world turn,” said Kelvin DeQuincey (28), a senior trader on Wall Street as he marched briskly over a dying homeless man. “You want to know who runs the world? You come to our door. Governments, big business, global financiers – they would all suck my dick if I promised to read their requests while they did it,” he said, striding to his 57th floor office opposite the New York Stock Exchange.

Mr. DeQuincey is a graduate from Harvard Business School who began working on the international bond markets four years ago and rapidly became a senior trader, due to the consistently high turnover of burned-out assholes.

“A lot of these guys just burn out in a couple of years and have to retire with a few measly million,” said DeQuincey, curling his lip in cold disdain. “I’m still at the top because I know how to pace myself, how to ration my energies. I think I could still be here at 30, if I stay in the same great physical shape.”

Mr DeQuincey disappeared into the executive washroom for a minute and came out looking unusually pumped for action. “Whoo!” he shouted upon emerging, shaking his head. “Let’s make some fucking green!” He then enthusiastically punched his secretary and briefly fondled the buttocks of a deliveryman standing by her desk.

Mr. De Quincey then showed us his trading desk, the place where decisions affecting hundreds of millions of people are made on an hourly basis.

"Iceland, Ireland, man, they're just like two identical money breasts," said DeQuincey.

"Iceland, Ireland, man, they're just like two identical money breasts," said DeQuincey.

“Anyone see that Iceland, Ireland, report anywhere?” he bellowed, enraged by the untidiness of a desk covered in open Playboy magazines. “Whoo! Look at the bazookas on her!” he shouted suddenly, holding up a centrefold to the rest of his team, who howled like famished wolves in response.

“OK, there’s some kind of deal going down with some Mickey-Mouse bunch of European pansies,” he explained, sweeping all of the porn and other documents off his desk in one violent movement. “It’s a small island somewhere off the coast of the cheese-eating surrender continent.”

“Elizabeth, don’t just look at that porn, bend over and pick it up,” he snapped at his secretary. The long-suffering Elizabeth, a former model with an architectural hairstyle bent over hesitantly, expecting the usual fondling, only to receive a boot in her ass instead.

“Why don’t you look like any of those centrefolds?” he sneered. “Don’t we pay you enough to get your fucking tits done? Here, take this,” he said, writing her a cheque for $10,000. “Now go to a plastic surgeon and get yourself some DDs. Don’t come back in here without them.”

“Yeah, what was I saying?” he said, turning back to his computer screens as Elizabeth slunk out of the room crying. “Oh yeah, the Ireland/Iceland thing. One of them has totally insolvent banks and now the country’s up to its ears in debt. Jesus, which one was it?” he said, before pausing to look for something in a small drawer and coming back up sniffing frenetically and rubbing his nose.

“Fuck it, time is money, baby!” he said. “It’s time to make a decision! Raise Ireland’s interest rates, then call Moody’s and have their bonds downgraded to junk status.”

Brian Cowen prepares to do what is necessary for Ireland.

Brian Cowen prepares to do what is necessary for Ireland.

“Whoo!” he yelled as the markets reacted, getting him $50 million closer to his $1 billion retirement goal. “That’s how the world works, bitch!”

“God, that makes me horny!” he said, fidgeting compulsively and looking around for his porn collection. “Goddamnit, where did that stupid bitch Elizabeth take my porn? Never mind, somebody call the Village Big Man of this Ireland place and have him or her get the fuck over here to suck my dick for bankrupting their country.”

In Ireland, Taoiseach Brian Cowen announced higher taxes and yet more cuts to social welfare and government services, before putting some scarlet lipstick on and catching the flight to New York.

One Response to Markets Snort Coke, Confuse Iceland and Ireland

  1. ancruiskeenlawnmower says:

    How the fuck do you expect any hoor’s bastard to read this stuff when it’s packed fucking solid with profanities. I think I speak for the people of Ireland when I say this filth makes me want to fucking puke. Yours, Monsignor Camillus Rafferty ODC.

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