Financial Apocalypse

Yesterday, the share prices for the Halifax (my building society) fell to an all time low, or something like that. Lloyds TSB bought them out, making them stronger and apparently saving them from the one terrifying event that all banks fear, as depicted so perfectly in Mary Poppins - a Run on the Bank. Which started me thinking... if there was a run on the bank, what fantastic repercussions could we expect? Undoubtedly our society would crumble and descend into anarchy, right? How far could this go?

Week 1: Ground Zero

HBOS - The Halifax and the Bank of Scotland share values drop to an all time low of 51%. Thousands of British shareholders see their share values drop from £10 to £1.85. Shocking. Apart from the odd suicide and a few unhappy savers, nothing too exciting happens. The cogs, however, are well and truly in motion.

Week 2: Run On The Bank

On Tuesday 25th September 2008, due to some misguided financial advice from a friend at her local bridge club, Sixty five Year-Old Emily Higgins walks into her local branch of the Halifax building society in Chichester and asks that they transfer all her savings and pensions to her newly opened HSBC savings account. The young teller, James Woodcock, a fine arts graduate of 25 years, informs her that because of a technical issue with their internet connection, they would be unable to do that until the following week. Having no grasp of modern technology or what the internet even is, Miss Higgins panics and kicks up a fuss, loudly declaring that the building society will not give her access to her funds. Within just a few minutes, already worried account holders begin to demand their money be drawn out of their accounts, either in cash, or wired elsewhere. The clamour turns into panic as the painfully slow customer service of the Building society staff exacerbates the situation. Among the growing rabble of angry customers, Dave Watson - Reporter for the Chichester local newspaper makes the call to his editor that would change life as we know it.

Week 3: Financial Apocalypse

several of the panicking Halifax patrons post tweets online about their ordeal in the Chichester branch. Many more post phone camera footage onto YouTube of the riot that ensued in the branch and the resulting armed police presence sent to quash them. Dave Watson’s story, however, is sold to Meridian television and broadcast across the nation that evening. Thousands of people turn up at the Halifax branches the following morning in dismay and those that can, withdraw or transfer all their savings. The inevitable knock on effect and rioting occurs in every major city in the UK. No Bank is safe as people stupidly horde cash which is rapidly declining in value. Jails overflow and the BBC news website reports scenes of brutal Police crackdowns all over the country. By the end of the week, the economy "crashes". The cities descend into anarchy; riots, protests and looting are rife. The police battle to restore order against the populace, their lines of riot shields reflecting the fires that are raging in the husks of looted electronics stores and supermarkets.

Week 24: The Future

The cities across England are all smouldering husks. The inhabitants of which pick their way through the broken buildings, seeking out food and water to add to their caches. Several gangs have taken refuge in shopping centres and the larger supermarkets, defending their stores of food with fierce and deadly aggression. The police and fire brigade have broken down, unable to cope with the strain. The brave men and women who managed to hold a resistance against the massive tide of looters and rioters have elected to save their own families and flee to more rural areas. Martial law has been declared across the nation and a thin force of British soldiers Police what little is left and enforce curfew. What is left of the emergency medical services use their dwindling supplies to treat the wounded in small makeshift emergency medical HQ's. Dave Watson, reporter for the Chichester Local Newspaper, shivers alone in a dark abandoned flat, his mind crazed through regret and remorse as he sees the outcome of his sensationalist news report.

Week 48: The New Curse

Driven mad through grief, remorse and hunger, Dave Watson - Reporter for the Chichester Local Newspaper- steps barefoot into an abandoned street. His filthy black fingernails scratch at a sore on his back, his gums bleed and his matted hair is thinning through mal-nutrition. He casts his glazed and vacant stare slowly from one end of the street to the other, looking for movement. There is none. No one will go near Dave Watsons street. Dave Watsons street is a cursed and fearful place. 

Quietly he wanders, his stick-thin frame casts a long shadow on the cracked and overgrown pavement. He takes a corner onto the abandoned high street. Children see him and run. He has no interest in them. They are too fast for him anyway. He moves into the road and slowly meanders through long since burnt-out husks of cars. A hand reaches out and grabs the leg of Daves ragged pyjama bottoms. From the shadows within the twisted wreck of two crashed cars, Dave hears a feeble voice... "scuse me mate, you got any food?" Dave stops, but says nothing... the voice from within the wreckage mews again... "Oi mate - you got any, oh my god..." The voice, stopping short, belongs to an old man wrapped in a filthy green sleeping bag. His face was already becoming weathered from the months he spent outside but most of his features were hidden anyway, beneath a bushy grey moustache and a mane of greasy, straggled hair which poked out from beneath a woolly bobbled hat. He casts his gaze up and out from his refuge too look at Dave Watson. At just over six foot tall and barefoot, his only item of clothing, a pair of red and white striped pyjama bottoms, filthy and ragged, Dave is quite a startling sight. He is stick-thin, bare chested and crisscrossed in blue veins and sores from malnourishment. His cracked lips pull back in a hellish grin, revealing what are left of his yellowing teeth. Dave Watson - Reporter for the Chichester Newspaper lets out a maniacal laugh and stoops to enter the car wreckage. The mans screams ring out across the desolated city and are suddenly silenced.

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