All that remains is to thank all of you who have kept faith with my monthly confessions of insanity

Welshcake

welshcake@iongroup.com

With the economic outlook now beyond a joke, Welshcake signs off amid denials he is actually a Welsh footballer

Many shocks and surprises lie ahead in the 2023 financial markets, but the most immediate — and perhaps biggest — is that this is my last ever Creditflux column. Yes, I’m sad to say the time has come for me to hang up my griddle.

“But why?” you ask. “How could you leave us at this of all moments, bereft of sound economic insight?” These are good questions but I trust you will forgive me to go as I came, with a certain measure of mystery. And currants.

If you suggest my leaving has something to do with the rising tide of speculation my Welsh references have generated, I’d have to concede there is some truth in that. Even by the standards of poorly kept superhero secret identities — take Batman’s incredibly expensive gadgetry and Clark Kent’s glasses — this was a farce.

It was always merely a question of time before my caster sugar cover was blown. And I knew my luck was running out when the wilier investigators among you started getting onto my Welsh mates.

Wales. CDS. Golf. In that order

The veil of suspicion fell first upon footballer Gareth Bale. It was conjectured that Welshcake column pieces appeared with the same regularity as him skiving off training sessions to supposedly play golf. Over time this gossip became too big a cross for the sensitive lad to bear, and no doubt it does a lot to explain his performances in the World Cup. I can only apologise to him for that, and fully accept that me retiring at the same time as him will do little to dampen the speculation.

Tom Jones got it even worse, in part due to the gathering morass of thought among many of you that I must be an ‘old bastard’. At a recent gala dinner performance beside Burj Al Arab in Dubai, the legendary crooner had to fend off interrogation from royal attendees and musician/host Evgeniy Morozov — not to be confused with the technological pessimist of the same name — as well as questions written on thrown knickers. Trust me, you don’t want that angry Tiger roaring at you down a crackly phone line.

Even economist Nouriel Roubini came under suspicion late last year. Any constructive publicity Dr Doom may have anticipated for his newly published book, Megathreats, was quickly lost in the deluge of idle rumour once someone pointed out it was just Welshcake without the jokes. “Why did I have to be the only other person in this world to point out automation is a problem for employment?” he moaned at me over a shisha.

A more romantic reason for my departure would be that I have found another mystical quest to pursue — one following in the footsteps of King Arthur’s knights and Merlin to seek out the Holy Grail. You can imagine me, if you like, traversing the icy tundra of the Desert of Wales or atop the windswept crags of Glyder Fawr in the manner of science’s tragic hero Wolf Vishniac — although I would prefer not to fall down an Antarctic crevasse like him — and I hope the Creditflux round table will always maintain a Siege Perilous for me in case of my victorious return.

Anyway, these feel like more noble reasons for disappearing than those you might entertain — that I had taken equity in a financial services enterprise, for example, or that the Creditflux editorial team had finally conspired to do me in over my flagrant disregard for deadlines. [We still might — editor.]

All that remains is to thank all of you who have kept faith with my monthly confessions of insanity. Among the rants, outlandish claims and misplaced Welsh nationalism, I hope there have been odd insights or perspectives you’ve found thought-provoking. And if not, it would be gratifying just to know there have been times amid the whirling confusion of the credit market in which I simply made you smile. I’ve loved the many opportunities Creditflux has afforded me to fully set out my — fortunately unique — world view.

I wish I had sufficient grasp on expression to convey my feelings as I head off into the wilds. But as the Welsh proverb puts it: “The best shortage is a shortage of words.” Mind you, we also have a lot of sayings about sheep, so maybe take that with the proverbial pinch.

I should probably end with something about what’s coming up in the markets. But you can just go read my — I mean — Roubini’s book, eh? ;)

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