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You know that the (blue) chips are really down when City folk start cancelling social engagements. Alpha and I were due to go to a birthday party tonight, which was cancelled at the 11th hour due to the birthday boy's bank going bump. A dinner planned for later in the week has also been cancelled, this time due to the host's overwhelming fear that the hedge fund he works for might be about to go bump.

Right now I'm sitting in my Central London club (less glamorous than it sounds) and it seems the only people still looking cheerful are the media types. Why do the words 'Nero' and 'fiddle' keep coming to mind?
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