I opened the door and almost fainted. A postman!
“I thought they’d got rid of you folk.” I said.
“Actually, I get privatised next week, love. Got a postcard for you. Cash on delivery. That’ll be two pounds please.”
“Do you take plastic?” I asked, digging in my pocket for some change.
“Sorry, cash only. The bean counters don’t let us handle plastic. I’m surprised they even trust us with letters.” I handed over the money and took the card. It showed a picture of Downing Street. It read
There’s no money left!
Banks have failed!
Wish you were here,