£10 trillion for a tan
Enjoy the good weather while you can. The bill comes later.
You've guessed it: some spoilsport wants to pour rain on our sunshine and deny the Count his all year tan.
But this time they have hit a home run. They are not talking millions. They are not talking billions. They have hit the trillions. Ten big juicy trillions. For a tan.
That sounds suspiciously like £10,000,000,000,000. Ten thousand billions. I may be out by a nought or two, but if a nought is nothing than I can not be out at all because a nought is nothing. As previously mentioned: maths and logic are not my strongest points because none of my nannies or governesses knew much about such grubby subjects either.
Ten trillion is nearly as much as the Count himself is worth. The only shame is the Count's worth to the world is not reflected in his net worth with the bank. My one stale crumb of comfort is that no respecting aristocrat has ever had a positive bank balance, except after a particulary successful period of raping, looting and pillaging in the name of the Csar and God. My ancestors last had a good run of raping and pillaging about 300 years ago. This should keep us going for a few more generations yet.
Back to the boggling billions which have become a trillion for a tan. Pedants might observe that the estimate refers mainly to global warming: to all of those who have the classic pale and puffy faced London commuter tan, global warming mainly means the chance for better weather and a better tan.
The spoilsport is one Charles Dumas of Lombard Street Research, who clearly knows how to generate a headline or two. Even the dour Scotsman picked up on it. The research may be bollocks, but you can be sure every sandal wearing, bearded and fully paid up member of the organic knitted wok liberation front will be quoting the statistic as certain fact from now on.
This time, the Count will avoid doing the three step dance to show the bullshit behind the squillions of billions: the dung heap it exposes is just too big. Suffice it to say the Her Majesty's Government also did an estimate on behalf of Her Majesty and her loyal Counts. They came up with an estimate of £1.2 billion over the next thirty to fifty years. That is less than £25 million a year for global warming according to HMG. Chicken feed to a govenrnment that throws 200 times that amount of money at the City Academies programme which will achieve precisely zero.
So now we have two estimates of the cost of global warming: £25 million a year or £10 trillion. The new estimate is 400,000 times the size of HMG's estimate. It comes from a different planet, called Zog.
We now reveal what the Count's family learned when Einstein came to stay: his Secret Theory of Relativity which states simply: "where you sit is where you stand". This means that your beliefs are relative to whatever you want to believe: if you want to believe the global warming will lead to mass extinction, you quote £10 trillion as fact. If you are a supine politician who wants to avoid dealing with any real problems of any sort whatsoever, you airbrush the problem away by calling it a £25 million inconvenience.
Between venal politicians and crazed lobby groups the sensible punter has only one realistic choice: believe in the aristocracy who are above playing games with numbers and reality.
You've guessed it: some spoilsport wants to pour rain on our sunshine and deny the Count his all year tan.
But this time they have hit a home run. They are not talking millions. They are not talking billions. They have hit the trillions. Ten big juicy trillions. For a tan.
That sounds suspiciously like £10,000,000,000,000. Ten thousand billions. I may be out by a nought or two, but if a nought is nothing than I can not be out at all because a nought is nothing. As previously mentioned: maths and logic are not my strongest points because none of my nannies or governesses knew much about such grubby subjects either.
Ten trillion is nearly as much as the Count himself is worth. The only shame is the Count's worth to the world is not reflected in his net worth with the bank. My one stale crumb of comfort is that no respecting aristocrat has ever had a positive bank balance, except after a particulary successful period of raping, looting and pillaging in the name of the Csar and God. My ancestors last had a good run of raping and pillaging about 300 years ago. This should keep us going for a few more generations yet.
Back to the boggling billions which have become a trillion for a tan. Pedants might observe that the estimate refers mainly to global warming: to all of those who have the classic pale and puffy faced London commuter tan, global warming mainly means the chance for better weather and a better tan.
The spoilsport is one Charles Dumas of Lombard Street Research, who clearly knows how to generate a headline or two. Even the dour Scotsman picked up on it. The research may be bollocks, but you can be sure every sandal wearing, bearded and fully paid up member of the organic knitted wok liberation front will be quoting the statistic as certain fact from now on.
This time, the Count will avoid doing the three step dance to show the bullshit behind the squillions of billions: the dung heap it exposes is just too big. Suffice it to say the Her Majesty's Government also did an estimate on behalf of Her Majesty and her loyal Counts. They came up with an estimate of £1.2 billion over the next thirty to fifty years. That is less than £25 million a year for global warming according to HMG. Chicken feed to a govenrnment that throws 200 times that amount of money at the City Academies programme which will achieve precisely zero.
So now we have two estimates of the cost of global warming: £25 million a year or £10 trillion. The new estimate is 400,000 times the size of HMG's estimate. It comes from a different planet, called Zog.
We now reveal what the Count's family learned when Einstein came to stay: his Secret Theory of Relativity which states simply: "where you sit is where you stand". This means that your beliefs are relative to whatever you want to believe: if you want to believe the global warming will lead to mass extinction, you quote £10 trillion as fact. If you are a supine politician who wants to avoid dealing with any real problems of any sort whatsoever, you airbrush the problem away by calling it a £25 million inconvenience.
Between venal politicians and crazed lobby groups the sensible punter has only one realistic choice: believe in the aristocracy who are above playing games with numbers and reality.
posted by Count Kostov at
2:11 pm
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