What a merchant banker...

I must not have read the terms and conditions of my first class EuroStar ticket properly. Apparantly, you are supposed to act like a dickhead.

'Yes trade', he sighed like he was talking to an imbecile on the other end of the telephone.
'I'm a trader. It's what I do', he snorted through his nose.
'Yah, yah.....yah', he continued. (I think he was trying to say 'yes', but his arrogance kept getting in the way).

'Yah, yah, yah'...he was now nodding a lot.

I turned away and tried to ignore him. At least the drinks trolley was on its way down the aisle - I could hear the comforting clink of the bottles in the distance.

'Yah, yah....yah, he droned on. (was he actually having a conversation - or still wanking?)

'Would you like a drink sir?', asked the stewardess.

'Fuck off. Can't you see that I'm on the phone', he barked at her.

'Listen to me', he sneered down the telephone, as the stewardess turned to me and asked for my drinks order. I shrugged my shoulders and glanced at the trader across the aisle. She just rolled her eyes and smiled.

'I want the money in liquid assets or a cash equivilant', he announced loud enough for someone a few seats away to peer over the top of his FT and look down his nose.

I think the person on the other end of the telephone must have hung up on him, because just as my glass of red wine turned up the trader put down his telephone with a sullen look on his face.

'Scotch on the rocks', he mumbled to the stewardess. She smiled at him. It was a smile of revenge...