The Economic Crisis Finally Hits The People That Matter

Dark days, my friends. These are dark days. You don’t need Bryan Appleyard to know which way the wind blows. The signs are more ominous than that. Last night I saw an Elberry with cloven hooves. He was riding a horse and his name was Discount and Bargain Buckets followed with him.

You might wonder about this apocalyptic talk. There is a reason for it. I saw ‘Fathers & Sons’ discounted at Borders yesterday. ‘50% off cover price’ was a wounding blow and I was lucky to have Judy there to catch me before I cracked a brow on a stack of hardbacked Jamie Olivers. I know we’re going through difficult financial times but I never thought it would get as bad as this. Japan’s economy might have collapsed, along with the world’s banking system, but the readership for heartening tales of families hasn’t diminished. In fact, it’s probably grown as people look to invest in the old favourites such as love, friendship, and all things that come with the Richard&Judy seal of approval.

To make matters worse, as I lay on my back and Judy dragged me heel first from the shop, I looked up at the passing shelves of bargain books and saw Bill Oddie’s new autobiography piled high.

‘Bill,’ I said, some hours later when the pethidine had kicked in. ‘You’ve been discounted. You’re 50% off at all Borders stores.’

There was a thud on the line and some minutes of silence.

‘Bill?’ I said. And then I repeated myself with a few more urgent ‘Bill’s.

Finally, there was a sound of some movement and the phone made a scraping sound as Oddie’s weak voice came back on the line.

‘Sorry, Dick,’ he said, ‘I seemed to have blacked out there for a moment. You said my book has been discounted?’

‘Not only yours but mine as well. 50% off “Fathers & Sons”, that beautifully crafted tale of family relationships, that has had reviewers writing odes of praise to its goodness. Half price for a book that highly valued is a crime. In fact, it’s so good, I wouldn’t even send a complimentary signed copy to sympathetic bloggers who might have spent years working to help my improve my image among the British public. I say they can queue up with the rest of Normality Street and pay at the counter for the honour of reading my words.’

‘As they should, Dick. As they should. It makes me think that books as good as ours should have price protection. I can’t believe they could have been discounted so quickly. This is terrible!’

‘Yet it’s not all bad news,’ I said, trying to ease Oddie’s concerns. ‘They were discounting all the celebrity autobiographies. O’Grady was marked down, so was Jonathan Ross, Dawn French, Julie Walters, and that Alan Carr, who, between you and me Bill, I wouldn’t cross the road to hit with a claw hammer.’

‘Stuff the lot of them,’ agreed Bill, who was sounding much more like the Oddie we’ve come to know and love and feed with peanuts. ‘But what I want to know is what we’re going to do, Dick? I had planned to invest my book money into a new owl sanctuary for the south west. I even had a name for it. Bill Oddie’s Owl Sanctuary Trust. BOOST would put owls on the map. Nige had even agreed to work there weekends, running classes in cravat management and advanced owl nurturing.’

‘Another blow,’ I said, really feeling for Bill’s loss. ‘You’re not alone in regretting the news. I had plans for my royalties too. The Richard Madeley Commando Training School was going to be the ground-breaking initiative for spreading the news that going without underwear is both hygienic and comfortable.’

‘Oh,’ groaned Bill.

‘Oh, indeed,’ groaned I in reply.

‘Oh, for goodness sake!’ groaned Judy who had at that moment walked into the room, carrying her laptop and the 1700 pages of the manuscript to her new novel. ‘Won’t you hang up that phone and stop being so bloody ridiculous? When my book comes out, I’ll be sure to earn a fortune. What are you worrying about? The world is crying out for an epic tale of miniature horses, Cornish smugglers, cross-dressing Dukes, harpsichord salesmen, and the Irish turnip industry. We’ll make millions, Richard. Millions!’

I shrugged as I hung up the phone. There was nothing else I could do. I would sink or swim based on the public’s love for tales of turnips. It is as it is and it’s never been any other way.

How To Beat The Recession: A Millionaire’s Guide

It has come to my attention that many of you are already feeling the pinch and that even those of you who haven’t already rented out your holiday cottages in Cornwall still have a few concerns about the looming recession. Just the other day, Judy scooped a single spoonful of caviar onto her Ritz cracker, causing me to enquire as to her state of mind. ‘Enjoying the credit crunch,’ was her witty reply as she placed cracker against denture and gave the thing a bite.

And there we have it. With the current financial instability hitting hard so close to home, I realised it was worth a few moments of my time to commit my thoughts to paper. There are some of you that haven’t lived through a recession. You don’t remember the fun we all had in the early eighties and you’re probably wondering how you’ll cope. Should you put your money in gold or begin to stuff hard currency beneath your mattress? Is Bill Oddie an investable commodity and is Nige’s plan to milk butterflies really a viable business plan? Is the market ready for real butterfly butter?

The Madeley Line is to sit tight. In any situation, where the poor are to be made poorer, there are always investment opportunities. There’s a down side and an upside to every ‘market readjustment’. People had some tough times in the eighties but they emerged with ‘This Morning’ and a fresh faced couple talking testicular examinations at half-past ten from a weekday morning sofa. You simply have to look at it from the right angle, as you have to look at testicles from the right angle. We might all enjoying receiving gifts at Christmas but we must not forget that we also get Cliff Richard's latest chart hit. We must take the rough with the smooth and, though his testicles be smooth, I can assure you that there’s nothing as rough as Cliff at Christmas.

It’s why I say: invest in the people industries. White slavery is popular in any bear market but if you can find a stockbroker willing to take investments in bears, that’s even better. When people are stuffing hard currency beneath their Deluxe Slumberlands, a bear in the house affords additional security. Guests might ask if the bear still shits in the woods but you can reply: not when he shits behind the curtains. And what a surprise that is to any would-be burglar coming in through the French windows. Consider this a Madeley Top Bear Tip: bears are an excellent investment opportunity. And if you can stick a tap into their glands, you’ll be made for life. I swear by the stuff and rub it on my sore knee nightly.

When the markets are squeezed, Judy likes to buy penny shares. When my knee is squeeze, I want to spend a penny but I’ll also be your friend for life. Yet in a economic slowdown, I’m a man who likes to put my money in the established industries. If you can live with your conscience, weapons manufacturers are a safe bet at times of world doubt. Many of the world’s biggest recessions have been solved with a war on a global scale and those of you with funds in artillery and air launched missiles will be sure to profit. Some will say 'war profiteering' but I say good financial sense as passed onto me by Gordon Burns. When I advised Felicity Kendal to invest in munitions, people said I was crazy but look at Felicity now.

I’ll leave you with a final tip for those of you who might be on a budget. If you do find yourself down to your last million in the bank: don’t panic. A million can last at least a year if wisely spent, six months if you're married to a woman with a passion for miniature ponies. Either way, you’ll still be able to see off this blip in the economy from you chalet on a Swiss slope. If things get really bad, change you holiday plans. Third world nations are affordable, usually warm all the year around, and will welcome your hard currency. Judy and I often enjoy the pleasures of South America where on money goes further and there’s no midget pony you can’t buy with a Yankee dollar.

And, if all things fail, just remember the Madeley saying: it’s pink if it’s healthy but don’t touch it is it’s Guatemalan and smells of turps.