Oil Market Report December, 2018

A Portland Christmas Carol (with sincere apologies to Mr Charles Dickens)

Diesel was dead to begin with. There was no doubt whatever about that…But hey who cared about diesel anyway?! The gasoline, heating oil and propane industries were all still booming and that meant money, money, money for Frack You Inc. of which Ebenezer J Trump was the Life President.

Working alongside Trump was his loyal Latino assistant Bobzalo Cratchitto. Loyal mainly because he did not have the necessary papers to work legally and as such, was not paid in the conventional way. Instead of money, Cratchitto received badges to wear on his lapels that said things like “I work for the winningest boss ever. FACT”, “Working for Mr Ebenezer means I am winning BIGLY” or simply the words “YUUUGE”.

“If only Señor Trump would pay me something” thought Cratchitto, “then at least I could help my poor son Tiny Jim” (who ran a struggling fuel business back home in Ciudado Yorkero). But his thoughts were soon interrupted by the “ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong” of the office doorbell and outside could be heard the joyous voices of Renewable Energy activists – fresh from attending “Smugfest”, the annual celebration of ecovegosustainability (this year sponsored by Marster Cards and Marryiott Resorts).

Ebenezer Trump opened the door and was greeted warmly by the appointed spokeshuman for the group (although to be absolutely clear, this individual of no specific gender, was neither a leader nor an opinion-former of the assembled collective). “Happy Winterval Mr Trump and greetings of the season to you. Would you like to invest some of your ill-gained lucre in one of our renewable energy projects? You can choose from solar, wind, tidal or squirrel”. Trump slammed the door in a rage. He was an oil man through and through and never, ever would he consider shifting his investments to alternative fuels. How loserish would that be?!

“Right Cratchitto, I’m going to bed” bellowed the President. “I’ve got several hours of reality TV episodes to catch-up on, so you’re fired © -at least until tomorrow when I’ll need you by 0630hrs”.

“But tomorrow is la Navidad Presidento”, moaned Cratchitto. “Bad Humbrebug” replied Trump. “6.30am tomorrow morning, no excuses”.

Trump headed up to his bed-chamber and picked his way through the empty pizza boxes to the remote control. The 95” television set went on, but despite being the cleverest, fittest and strongest 55 year old on the planet, Ebenezer J Trump soon drifted off to sleep, but not before quickly tweeting his 75 billion followers for 3 hours. He had not been sleeping long when a sudden crash woke up Trump and there in front of him was an Arab Sheikh, resplendent in his white robes and with a “Dealing with Women Drivers” guidebook tucked neatly into his keffiyeh. “Who are you?” blurted out the President.

“I am the Ghost of Oil Past” replied the Sheikh “and along with my OPEC colleagues, I have been manipulating the price of oil for the last 40 years”.

“Thank goodness” said Trump drowsily, “I thought you were going to be one of those bad ghosts”.

Soon he was back asleep, but once again a crash jerked him out of his slumbers. A giant 4×4 twin turbo F150 pick-up came smashing through the doors of the bed-chamber. A red-necked man in cowboy boots jumped out and warmly shook Trump by the hand. “Howdy boss. I’m Clayton Drillwhacker VI and I’m the Ghost of Oil Present. As you well know Mr President once we find even the slightest bit of oil in the ground, we crack it, smack it and frack it – just for you. Oh yessir and that makes Frack You Inc. the biggest, baddest and most braggadocious company in the World”.

Trump smiled…“these dreams just get better” he thought and once again dropped off into a pleasant slumber…

The Ghost of Oil Yet to Come had been driving round Trump’s bedroom for a good 10 minutes before the President awoke – such was the silent running of the ghost’s electric car. “What in God’s name is that monstrosity?” Trump hollered.

“Well this is a car that does not use gasoline Ebenezer and according to social media, all that black stuff currently making you rich won’t be needed in the future. It’s only going to be good for landfill and as make up for the “Goth Community”. And with those chilling words, the final ghostly visitor was gone – although he did need to ask whether the house had 3 phase electrical supply, a 2 point charging pin and 15 metres of cable, so that he could make his way back to the after-life.

Ebenezer Trump leapt out of bed, because he knew exactly what to do. He ran as fast as his 45 year old legs could take him to Bobzalo Cratchitto’s house and banged on the door. “Bobzalo, mi primo et mejor amigo – open the door. We need to invest in alternative energy. It’s the future. In fact, here’s $250m for Tiny Jim to build a wind-farm across the whole of Mexico. Then let’s find those renewable types who called round yesterday. Together we are so going to make everything Great Again. In fact the whole thing has put me in such a good mood, that I am going to wish you and all the readers of this report a very, Merry Christmas!”