The problem with lynch mobs is that they sometimes get the wrong guys. It must have been great fun back in the Old West, stringing up some ornery hombres you suspected of cattle rustling. Until you found out that they had been drunk as skunks in Madame Fifi’s saloon on the night in question, and were therefore innocent.

I mention this in reference to British retail bankers, who are in a position similar to the alleged cow stealers of yore. For months I have been yelling: “Let’s see the yellow-bellied varmints dance at a rope’s end!” as lustily as anyone. After all, there were endless examples of small businesses that felt hard done by because banks had snubbed their loan requests.