A quick look around any trading floor will confirm there is a serious shortage of females working in the City’s investment banks - save the sexed-up secretaries, of course.
If only The Rat had to write Mid-Year Objectives. Then maybe, for once, he wouldn't have something to say.
On Friday 14th August, six colleagues at a certain professional services firm at More London Place will see their hard work pay off when the doors of Gibson Hall open on their summer charity ball. Tickets are still available, and at £60 a pop, offer a good deal for you - and for The Prince's Trust.
The fixation with dating a trader, I believe, is disillusioning to the countless girls obsessed with bagging one, and causes me to wonder: how much do the predators really know about their prey?
We are having a wet winter in Sydney. Today I braved the elements to make the hike into the city for my yoga class. We used to live in an inner-city neighbourhood and I walked everywhere. No one who lives in the inner-city really needs a car, and besides, where would you park it?
It kills me to admit it, but the only thing rarer than a unicorn is a woman who knows when to shut up. I reach this awful conclusion after a friend sends an SOS asking for help with her online dating profile.
Here in London where people don't flirt and smile at each other in the street lest they inadvertently chat up a terrorist, teeth may well be deemed unnecessary. This may explain the English attitude of 'Nobody sees them, so why spend money?'
Finally, Rako is about to receive his big break! Or is he? Leave it to the Rat to let him know.
Rako's a realist. And he's figured out a way out of banking. But which reality show will take him there?
One recent phenomenon I have noticed in New York City is that there seems to be an increasingly diminished male-female ratio in several hot spots known to be fertile ground for meeting women.