‘Twas the night before Christmas
Snow was falling and stars were bright
The economists were all tucked up in their beds
Dreaming of all the forecasts they’d got right
But off in the distance the silence was broken
We heard glasses clink and saw lights flash
The music and mayhem could only mean one thing
It was the Central Bankers’ Christmas Bash!
The one night a year when Governors gather
But when all the decisions have been made
When they can all avail of ample liquidity
And dance the night away to Slade
It was Jerome Powell who got the ball rolling
In his tux and tails so resplendent
Ueda was asked if he wanted to sing
He said that was data dependent.
There was food and snacks from around the world
Tapas and treats guaranteed to appetize
Lagarde had brought Coquilles St Jacques
Philip Lane had brought Bacon Fries
There was no end to the drink on offer
A global range not for the squeamish
Christine sophisticatedly sipping Champagne
Makhlouf was piling into the Beamish
Tiff Macklem started swinging from the chandelier
Despite Andrew Bailey’s reprimanding
But the chandelier broke, poor Tiff flew off
Praying to God he’d get a soft landing
Then the dancing got going in earnest
All on the floor displaying such pluck
Jay Powell dancing the American Smooth
Philip Lane doing the Huckle-buck
Well next the whole gang were doing shots
And outlining all the policies they might do
Soon all their yield curves were inverted
And most of the governors too
There was no talk of monetary policy
It was just food, drink and rock and roll
As the party dragged on to the early hours
Just like inflation, it was out of control
They started to debate policy and fights broke out
Nobody was sure what they should do
Lagarde shouted “what about economies?”
They all replied “sure we haven’t a clue!”
Then Makhlouf stepped in and called for order
Let’s put an end to this brawling
For it’s patently clear, that interest rates next year,
Like the snow, will be gently falling.
Tradewinds 