Pound Back Under Pressure On Beckham Injury Blow
The pound is back under pressure this morning, falling below 1.10 against the euro, and within half a cent or so of slipping back under 1.50 against the US dollar.
News filtering through late last night that an injury to David Beckham would rule him out of the summer World Cup is to blame according to experts, like me.
Some people that don't know what they are talking about are implying another warning from Moody's that the UK is in danger of losing it's AAA credit rating is really responsible.
It's already shaping up like another volatile week for sterling, with the minutes of this month's BoE MPC meeting out on Wednesday and UK public spending data due out on Thursday, not that that's got anything to do with it you understand.
Neither has data out today showing that UK house price growth appears to have run out of steam after asking prices rose by just 0.1% this month, according to Rightmove.
Another raft of opinion polls out over the weekend suggested that the upcoming election might be a closer run thing than last week's poll by Angus Reid which suggested an outright Conservative victory.
I'm thoroughly sick of the whole thing already and they haven't even given us a firm date yet. And why oh why do we have the endure what the leading protagonists wives have got to say on the issue? I'm not interested in Colleen's opinion on the merits of England employing a five man midfield in South Africa am I? So why should I give two hoots about what David Cameron's or Gordon Brown's wives have got to say? I don't want to know about "Dave's irritating habits", or whether Gordon picks his nose and eats it in bed do I?
I took drugs when I was student. Did you, yeah well I used to drink seventeen pints of Special Brew every night so there, you can't be more ordinary than me, mate. If they're electing people on ordinary-ness then I'm the man for the job, the noo. Well, we can't put your missus up next to Sarkozy's looking like something the cat dragged in can we, eh Cyclops? Come on then, sod an election, let's have a drinking competition, the first to neck twenty tequila slammers wins, puff pants.
They could stage it on prime time TV on a Saturday night, hosted by Jim Bowen, wives semi naked in the background. Shove h'apenny, darts, arm wrestling, binge drinking and bar billiards winner takes all.
Hang on, what about Wannabe PM's Skating on Thin Ice. The wives can be included in that one as well, throw in a couple of duets with Robbie Williams, and maybe leave them in the jungle for a fortnight eating worms and stuff. I think I'm onto something here, get me Simon Cowell on line two.
News filtering through late last night that an injury to David Beckham would rule him out of the summer World Cup is to blame according to experts, like me.
Some people that don't know what they are talking about are implying another warning from Moody's that the UK is in danger of losing it's AAA credit rating is really responsible.
It's already shaping up like another volatile week for sterling, with the minutes of this month's BoE MPC meeting out on Wednesday and UK public spending data due out on Thursday, not that that's got anything to do with it you understand.
Neither has data out today showing that UK house price growth appears to have run out of steam after asking prices rose by just 0.1% this month, according to Rightmove.
Another raft of opinion polls out over the weekend suggested that the upcoming election might be a closer run thing than last week's poll by Angus Reid which suggested an outright Conservative victory.
I'm thoroughly sick of the whole thing already and they haven't even given us a firm date yet. And why oh why do we have the endure what the leading protagonists wives have got to say on the issue? I'm not interested in Colleen's opinion on the merits of England employing a five man midfield in South Africa am I? So why should I give two hoots about what David Cameron's or Gordon Brown's wives have got to say? I don't want to know about "Dave's irritating habits", or whether Gordon picks his nose and eats it in bed do I?
I took drugs when I was student. Did you, yeah well I used to drink seventeen pints of Special Brew every night so there, you can't be more ordinary than me, mate. If they're electing people on ordinary-ness then I'm the man for the job, the noo. Well, we can't put your missus up next to Sarkozy's looking like something the cat dragged in can we, eh Cyclops? Come on then, sod an election, let's have a drinking competition, the first to neck twenty tequila slammers wins, puff pants.
They could stage it on prime time TV on a Saturday night, hosted by Jim Bowen, wives semi naked in the background. Shove h'apenny, darts, arm wrestling, binge drinking and bar billiards winner takes all.
Hang on, what about Wannabe PM's Skating on Thin Ice. The wives can be included in that one as well, throw in a couple of duets with Robbie Williams, and maybe leave them in the jungle for a fortnight eating worms and stuff. I think I'm onto something here, get me Simon Cowell on line two.
