And now for something, completely different...

It's not the easiest job in the world being a social secretary for an actuarial department. To be fair, not being a sociable person myself didn't help issues, but I soldiered on through 2006 before relievedly handing over the mantle at the end of the year. We went bowling and ate out and spent endless evenings at various pubs drinking. Perhaps the most vexed half-hour I spent was trying to work out what the Actuarial Department was going to do for Children In Need, (which seemed to fall under my remit, somehow). In the end, out of a mixture of exasperation and a genuine feeling that it was the easiest way out, I brazenly committed to writing and performing a song myself.

And it actually went alright. It was the day after my exam results, and the fact I passed mine and that the department in general had a really good sweep probably helped. It raised £150 or so for Children In Need, which isn't too bad given I spent no effort on the actual fundraising side whatsoever, leaving that all to Nolene. And the lyrics went something a little bit like this:

The Actuary Song

An actuary never speaks,

And spends its time just thinking,

And though you think it’s half asleep

It’s actually just blinking.

And when you turn your back and leave

It springs up from its slumber

And dances all around the room

A cautionary rumba.

Some think that actuarial science

Is just for freaks and losers,

And that a very strict appliance

Of maths is quite a snoozer.

But every night at nine o’clock

When other men are sleeping

The actuaries party on

A festive spirit keeping.

They sing of happy rainbow lands,

Where numbers speak like people,

And Excel sheets prance hand in hand

And ICAs are steeples,

And mathematical reserves

Will smile with joyful laughter,

And medium term gilt yield curves

Will skip for ever after.

And all surrender penalties

Are just imagination,

And every bonus paid in gold,

In Group Administration,

And asset shares like leaping salmon

Shine like crystal fountains

And premium rates are flakes of snow

That decorate the mountains.

But after all this love and joy

And true exhilaration,

They doze in dreamland all day through

In silent contemplation.

So don’t disturb the happy band

Or otherwise perturb them,

For surely there’ll be hell to pay,

The next time you disturb them.

This went down well enough for a repeat performance, and a rather ropey recording of it now immortalises my whiny singing. Unfortunately the file is too big to get past the registry on this, (free), site, but you can find the recording of the thing on the TeamElgar gmail account.

TCH