In a move that has sent shivers down the spine of every hedge fund manager who fancies himself a water baron, the government has blocked a private rescue deal for Thames Water. Yes, the very same Thames Water that has been leaking more secrets than a Conservative party conference and more water than a leaky teapot at a vicarage tea party. The private sector, it seems, has been given the boot, and nationalisation is now as inevitable as a hangover after a night of free gin.
It's a tale that would make even the most cynical of satirists blush with disbelief. The water company, which has been drowning in debt (pun absolutely intended), was about to be rescued by a consortium of private equity vultures. But the government, in a rare flash of clarity, has said: 'No more.
The taps are ours.' This is not just a business story. This is a morality play.
A satire of epic proportions. Here we have a company that has been pumping raw sewage into rivers, failing to fix leaks, and paying its executives bonuses that would make a pirate queen blush. And now, when the bill comes due, they want the taxpayer to pick up the tab?
The audacity is breathtaking. It's as if they expected us to believe that the only way to keep water flowing is to hand the keys to a bunch of city slickers who think 'water table' is something you find in a fancy restaurant. But the government has drawn a line.
They have blocked the rescue deal. And in doing so, they have taken a step towards nationalisation. Now, the question is: can they handle it?
Or will they manage the water system with the same efficiency they manage train timetables? One shudders to think. But for now, let us raise a glass of gin (preferably not from Thames Water) and toast to the death of corporate greed.
Or at least its temporary retreat. For in the world of satire, we know that the fat cats always come back. They just need a new disguise.
