The phone lines of the well-respected Bank of Mum and Dad have been jammed by account-holders after rumours that the Dad side of the business has been in ‘secret deals’ with an allegedly ‘inappropriate non-financial institution’, with huge sums of the bank’s reserves unaccounted for. This has led the Mum side of the business to initiate a ‘float off’ of the more lucrative DadBank franchise, and rumours that the Mum side might look for ‘temporary partnerships’ with newer, ‘more experimental’ institutions to ease the coming crisis and plan for future holdings.
Meanwhile account-holders are concerned about the future of their accounts, with some predicting ‘a run on the fridge’ – jargon for a scenario in which perishable assets are speedily withdrawn in the run up to a longer term crisis.
‘This is confusing,’ said second year drama student Laura Smythe, an accountholder with M & D. ‘The dad side of the bank has always been more associated with loans, and I myself had negotiated a deal with Dadbank which meant I could enter a self-indulgent low-pay high-risk profession with a guaranteed zero interest loan, provided I remember his birthday and keep my experimental lesbianism low-key. Now though, I don’t know what is going on, and payments have dried up.’
Callers to the bank get an automated message saying ‘your call is important to us, but due to the high volume of emotional freight, both our operators are too upset to talk to you.’ Another account holder, Nicky Smythe, (19) a self employed freelance music technology and song-writing creative web consultant said; ‘I blame the Mum side of the bank for poor communications with the Dad side. She should have seen this coming when he started wearing that after shave.’
The third account-holder, Tim Smythe (15), who describes himself as an ‘independent organic cannabis developer’ believes he could get compensation for the bank’s mis-selling of lifestyle and educational policies. He said: ‘For years we’ve been sold the message ‘work hard at school and be sensible about what you do with friends’. Now, with lower pass rates at GCSE looming, mum never here at dinner time and Dad smelling of drink so badly, that advice seems pointless and I plan to stay in my bedroom with the window open till a new deal can be hammered out. Without me having to be there, obviously.’