Henry Mention. Cardboard Box Supplier to the Masters of the Universe.

That's what my new business card says. They can't get enough of 'em. The factory where what they are made has had to open through all the weekends these last few months to keep up with demand. It's usually busy Lizzie around this time of year anyway with office moves and that, but these collapses or whatever they're called I can't really get my head around it all really, have been a God send. A real boom with the news on the telly like one great big advert for me these days. After it's finished I'm off to the HQ of whoever it is this time what is in a spot of bother and will be needing to get their stuff out of there sharpish. From the top of our road its either turn right for the City or turn left for Docklands.

I can tell you precisely where the best caff is in each. It's where you'll find me treating the caretaker from the building I've managed to wangle my way into to a spot of breakfast while I bend his ear about what's in it for him if he chooses my boxes. Or to use the local terminology, if I become his preferred supplier of boxes. Sometimes this only occurs if I take him to my preferred venue of evening business, Shoreditch High Street and its saucy little strip joints. It's amazing how many people are willing to say yes to a bit of business when distracted by some naked sauce gyrating her intimate little fiddly bits. I have boundaries though and draw the line at paying for a bit of how's your father, no matter how many boxes are involved.

Job satisfaction innit, seeing them all leave with their stuff slung in the boxes I've had the privilege of supplying. They all look so peeved at being told to sling their hook out of their big posh offices I'm glad to be able to help in my own little way. Anything to lighten the load. Been thinking recently about my plans for expansion. Reckon the removals business could throw up a nice little earner with the news saying these people are gonna struggle with their debts now, forced into moving and all that. In my book it's one thing wanting everything and wanting it now, but quite another to go out and get it all on credit. I never bothered to buy my house off of the council, even when they were practically giving them away under orders from Maggie, for fear of debt. No, live within your means I say. Whatever fancy term they give it, you still owe 'em.

Today's a dead cert. Some sort of bank, or at least it was. They've taken nearly 2000 boxes from my premium range. Big enough for all those desk ornaments and strong too. Just keep my eyes peeled for those traffic wardens while I get them unloaded. Then it's off home to pick up my messages and an evening spent looking out for them on the news. I still don't understand this credit crunch thingy they keep moaning on about. Seems to me a good time to be in cardboard boxes.