Stephen Fry's Key to the City Page #2

is standing with their faces...

Veins bulging out on your forehead.

And you've absolutely transformed.

- An animal. - I've lost my voice now.

- I can hear that.

So, did you make money on that?

- You don't know yet. - I don't know

till the end of the day.

- You now have to do the computations.

- Now we work it all out.

- You selling or buying?

- I was selling and lending.

And borrowing. I was doing

everything.

Absolutely incomprehensible to me.

But, as theatre, it's one of

the most remarkable things I've seen.

I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Whether you are trading metal

futures or ready cash,

the city is the throbbing heart of

world finance.

And at its centre - the Bank of

England.

On the ground floor, there may be

marbled halls,

but in the basement, the emphasis is

not on show but security.

Oh, my. Is that what I think it is?

Good Lord.

20 in huge...

Oh, my God!

(MIMICS CONNERY AS BOND) You

do realise you're mad, Goldfinger.

I'm waiting to meet

the Chief Cashier, Chris Salmon.

This is like a wholesale warehouse

ready to supply the retailers,

in this case the high street banks,

when necessary.

And this is just one of the rooms

full of cash.

There's apparently over 20 billion

in these vaults.

I can't help thinking of Liza

Minnelli and Joel Grey.

Money!

A Mark, a Yen, a Buck or a Pound.

It's all that makes the world go

round. Look at it.

It's all here. You think of the Bank

of England,

you think of a noble edifice with

columns in front of it.

The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street.

And here's all this raw cash.

They say in movies, the directors,

that audiences always follow the

money.

Even if it's someone in a cafe

pushing a $20 bill

across to someone else, the human

eye always follows it.

We're obsessed with it. It's kind

of...

Our breath comes in short gasps when

we see so much of it around us.

There's something about the sheer

physical presence of money

that brings out something

very puzzling and dark within us.

Well, in each cage there's about 4

million

and in the room as a whole, there's

about $2 billion

of new bank notes that haven't yet

been issued.

And ones that you, as Chief Cashier,

have signed.

- Not individually, obviously. - No.

Just the one signature

which has been repeated a few times

- modern technology.

That must be a marvellous feeling to

see your name on these.

- It says it there.

- Yes. Just there.

So you sat down with a piece

of paper and did a few versions

of your signature and...

It was as unsophisticated as that.

You're given an A4 sheet with three

boxes.

You can do three attempts and then

you tick your best one.

Or, in my case, you print off a

second sheet...

- Until you felt you'd got it right.

- ..and print your best one.

Then it goes off to be photocopied,

I guess. And there it is.

When you go to a cash machine and out

comes this,

and you look at it and you see your

name there, do you get a thrill?

Erm...there's an element of that.

It would be untrue to pretend

otherwise.

But, I mean, there is a more serious

point.

The reason why we have the Chief

Cashier's signature on the note

is to underscore the importance we

place on the institution.

On the fact people can trust their

bank.

- It's why we have the signature

there. - It's an elaborate IOU.

It's a promissory note. A lot will be

watching this thinking,

"The weakest point - the point where

we can move in -

is when you're transporting it."

Somebody orders a few of these

crates.

Somehow you've got to get them into

a van and on to the street

without anybody following you.

Causing you to crash against a wall.

Doing that Sweeney stuff.

Presumably, you can't tell me

anything about how you do that.

We move the cash safely.

Yeah. That's very well put.

Whoa!

- Try and miss the top if you could,

please. - I'll do my best.

We're so close to the Gherkin I can

almost smell the dill and vinegar.

In the City of London, the Square

Mile that is the financial district,

thrusting new towers jostle with the

most ancient of strange rituals.

I feel a bit like an anthropologist

landing in a foreign country when...

outside the Guildhall, I come across

a group

of those ceremonial symbols of the

City of London Corporation -

Beadles.

- And you? - Candlewick. - Candlewick.

- Farringdon-within.

- Farringdon. Excellent. - Within.

It's not without.

Within and Without. This is like

Punch and Judy.

You've got Farringdon Within and

Farringdon Without.

More Beadles. I've never seen so many

Beadles in my life!

How wonderful to see you.

I must say there's an almost

Dickensian, Pickwickian sense

of good English roast beef and you

all look well fed.

- We've done that just now.

- That'll be why.

A request from the mayor, sir.

Will you get your hair cut?

You're quite right. I'm very sorry.

I'm a shambles.

That's me told. Dear me.

The Beadles tell me they are hear

for the 'Silent Ceremony'.

I don't know quite what they mean.

Whether, literally, we go inside the

Guildhall and not a word is spoken.

I believe it is a solemn occasion.

The whole thing is a mystery

about to be unravelled.

This will be the inauguration of the

new Lord Mayor.

That is the head of the City of

London Corporation.

That's not Boris Johnson's job.

This one is chosen from among the

Aldermen of the City.

And this exact ceremony has

apparently been held every year

since around the time Dick

Whittington became Lord Mayor

over 600 years ago.

Unlike any of the 32 boroughs in

London,

the City of London Corporation is

elected by both residents and

businesses

and has unique powers - even its own

police force.

Nice hat!

It's an extraordinary, mysterious 35

minutes of silent ceremony

with the only words spoken those of

the new Lord Mayor's oath.

I, David Hugh Wootton,

do solemnly, sincerely and truly

declare

that I will faithfully perform the

duties of the office of Lord Mayor

of the City of London.

The rest? Schtum.

It's all done by symbols.

And this is the moment when power

passes.

You put on the funny hat and the

job's yours.

This year's man in the hat is a City

solicitor.

- How do you do? Congratulations, Lord

Mayor. - Thank you.

It was really wonderful.

One of the conditions of being able

to be a Lord Mayor...

Congratulations too. ..is to be able

to wear that hat without looking

ridiculous.

- You pull it off. - Thank you. - There's

genuine dignity in it.

It's a wonderful ceremony.

Is it?

Oh, my goodness! You've been holding

that all afternoon.

And doing the flicking. Yes.

And one final hidden ritual

involving a hat -

the passing of the key to power.

One year ago, you asked me to keep

the key to the City

in Christ's Hospital seal under my

hat.

I have done so.

I now return to you that key.

Please keep this key under your hat.

My Lord Mayor, I will do so.

- That's it. - That's it?

I have to say, that's a slightly

disappointing key.

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