The Mouse on Wall Street

The Mouse on Wall Street

Leonard Wibberley

Language: English

Pages: 115

ISBN: 0688025951

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Never has "the money game" been more deliciously exposed than in this ingenious comedy-satire. Grand Fenwick's secret weapon this time is its Grand Pinot chewing gum. At the conclusion of its victorious war against the United States, the duchy had lodged manufacturing rights to the product in an American company, where they had lain dormant. But now the anti-smoking campaign is in full tilt, gum sales have boomed, and Grand Fenwick receives a check, unheralded and unwanted, for one million dollars-its 40 per cent share of the first annual profit. What consternation! For surely nothing good can result from the influx of those unneeded dollars into the tidy economy of Grand Fenwick (15 square miles; 5000 souls). And indeed the consternation is well founded. One year later, the ills of inflation already afflicting every Grand Fenwickian, high or low, Conservative or Labor, the profit check is not one million dollars, but ten million. Now only the benign Gloriana XII can save her people, and inspiration is equal to the perilous moment. Determining to lose the money by investing it on Wall Street, she closes her eyes-a classic method-and jabs at the financial page with her embroidery needle. Then, having airmailed off to the States a purchase order for stock in the company her needle has skewered, she settles back comfortably and confidently to her embroidery. Clearly Gloriana XII is no financial genius, and, of course, her scheme goes awry. But just how so is a matter for Mr. Wibberley's risible ingenuity and for his readers. Suffice it to say here that mergers merge, conglomerates conglomerate, and in due course all the money markets of the world begin to wobble. For what if Grand Fenwick should liquidate its billions-yes, they're billions now-of American assets and demand payment in gold?

Galapagos

El ingenioso hidalgo D. Quijote de la Mancha

Answered Prayers

Mulligan Stew: A Novel

Choke

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Am reminded, gentlemen, by your presence on the opposition benches of Browning's rebuke to Wordsworth. I take the liberty of paraphrasing the words: "Just for a handful of silver, you left me, Just for a dollar to put in your coat. . . ." In silence he shut the scarlet leather dispatch box before him and handed it to the Speaker of the House. The gesture symbolized his resignation as Head of the Government, and then he walked from the Council, followed by the six of his party who had.

The letter, which, as a result of previous correspondence, now came from Balche and Company, of Port Elizabeth, New Jersey, finance agents for the Duchy in the United States, rather than from Bickster and Company, who merely manufactured the gum. When the letter arrived, it was brought to the castle not by one man but by a whole delegation. It was addressed to the Count of Mountjoy, for Balche and Company were unaware that the royalties from chewing gum had brought about the collapse of the.

Along the line and there's no new business and no new financing coming to Westwood Coal. This kind of gambling is bad for Wall Street and bad for business. So why doesn't your client just get together with mine and at least discuss intentions? Maybe when the whole thing blows up something could be saved." "Tell me," said Mr. Balche, eying the geraniums glowing red in the window box, "is your client interested in buying the shares held by my client?" "No," said Dibbs. "He owns the remaining.

From cylinder blocks to paper clips and typewriters. Gloriana riffled through these pages, feeling slightly concerned because all that material which now belonged to the Duchy represented a vast and untidy lump of responsibility. The front page, she found, struck a balance between assets and liabilities. Gloriana skipped that because she had come to doubt the accuracy of company balance sheets. They always agreed down to the very last penny and that, she knew, was purest fiction. Nobody could.

Only to be met with the bland and meaningless phrases of diplomacy which he often employed himself. So, that morning in September, while the world was concerned with riot and military threat, the balance of trade and the price of gold, the Count of Mountjoy awaited with some anxiety news of whether his copy of the Times of London had been delivered or whether Salat had once more decided to boycott Grand Fenwick for a day or two. However, on such a glorious morning with the chirping of birds.

Download sample

Download