Bring on Strictly Come Banking

So let's shake a scolding finger at our wonderful socialist-lite Government, which placed all of its trust in a bunch of pinstripe plonkers and glorified gamblers.

Which has to be the most glaring example of gullibility since Paul McCartney slipped a ring on Heather's finger.

What our politicians failed to spot was that merchant bankers are ravenous tigers, who should have been locked up in a secure economic cage.

Instead, their claws were blunted with a beautician's nail file.

Now, experts warn that we should prepare ourselves for a rollercoaster ride on the stock exchange.

Wrong.

This one's a bungee jump - minus the elastic rope.

Or maybe there is a rope after all...

Clearly, Grandma Jackson was right all along. That's why I've withdrawn my meagre savings from the bank and hidden them under the mattress.

The dosh should be secure, although I'm not a hundred per cent confident.

When I woke in the middle of last night, I'm sure I spotted the silhouette of Howard from the Halifax, lurking next to the bedpost.

HBOS employees have obviously gone feral.

Can't wait to see their next all-singing, all-dancing TV advert.

I bet they're dressed as the zombies from Thriller.

But I shouldn't joke, this is no laughing matter.

We must ensure that the present situation is never allowed to happen again, which means proper scrutiny of the banking system.

Unfortunately that's easier said than done.

The main problem isn't that the financial markets are too complicated to understand.

It's just that bankers are so damned boring, no-one can be bothered to keep a watchful eye on their atavistic antics.

But have no fear - I've arrived at a solution.

Replace dodgy Del Boys in the City with lap dancers smeared in peanut butter.

Thereby ensuring traders receive the hard-core scrutiny they deserve.

Another problem with the current situation is that bankers are rewarded for success but aren't punished when they mess up.

My solution?

Force them to do what every other untalented moron does when their career grinds to a juddering halt.

Appear on Strictly Come Dancing.

Let their punishment be rhumba!

Then the rest of us can gloat while those busted banking berks are forced to stretch rictus grins across their anxious faces, while Bruce Forsyth mistimes yet another duff gag.

"Nice to fleece you, to fleece you, nice!" was once the brazen, braying mantra of bullish bankers.

No more.

Bumper bonuses will be vaporised.

Time for those fiscal flops to get used to a Brucie bonus, instead.