The Cheque: A Historical Re‑enactment in Six Scenes
For though the world doth tap and ping, some pockets of parchment persist.
Someone mentioned a cheque the other day... A cheque?! Is this 1987?
A historical re-enactment performed by a moderately confused Gen Z protagonist, one weary Gen Xer, and the Bank of Yesteryear Players.
And so Zed mastered the ritual of the cheque, not out of love, but necessity. For though the world doth tap and ping, some pockets of parchment persist.
Dramatis Personae
Every great tale starts with its heroes and villains—let’s meet ours.
Zed, of Gen Z — bewildered, phone-first, brave.
Xenia, the Gen X Sage — keeper of dial-up lore.
Landlord of Yore — speaks only in paper.
Clerk of the High Street Bank — guardian of processing times.
Chorus of Quills — narrates, judges silently.
Scene I — The Summons
[A dimly lit bedsit. Zed brandishes a smartphone. The Landlord of Yore appears, clutching parchment.]
Landlord of Yore: “Thou shalt pay… by cheque.”
Zed: “By… what spell?”
Chorus of Quills (whispering): A cheque: a rectangular decree instructing gold to move from one vault to another. Slowly.
Scene II — The Sacred Papyrus
[Xenia enters, wearing a Nirvana tee and the patience of a saint.]
Xenia: “Behold, the chequebook — a relic from the Time Before Instant Transfers. Treat it with mild respect and maximum caution.”
Zed: “Does it… tap?”
Xenia: “No. It… cures you of hope.”
Scene III — The Ritual of Inscription (a choreographed sequence)
[Spotlight on a single cheque. Gregorian chanting of sort codes in the background.]
The Date (Top Right)
Write the day’s date thusly: 26/07/2025.
Chorus: “Backdate not, lest chaos reign.”
The Payee (After “Pay”)
Inscribe the full legal name: Sandra Landlady Ltd.
Chorus: “Nicknames are for group chats, not banks.”
The Tribute in Numerals (Right-hand box)
Enter the amount precisely: £317.50.
Chorus: “Two decimals, always. Even if nought.”
The Tribute in Words (Main line)
Pen thus: Three hundred seventeen pounds and 50 pence only.
Chorus (aghast): “Yes, words. As though it were 1823.”
The Signature (Bottom right)
Affix the mark known to the bank. No emojis. No new personality.
[Trumpets. The cheque is folded ceremoniously.]
Scene IV — The Clearing
Clerk of the High Street Bank (intoning):
“It shall take up to five working days1 for the funds to journey through the Clearing Realms.”
Zed: “FIVE?”
Xenia (patting shoulder): “In my day, that was considered fast.”
Scene V — The Perils (A cautionary tableau)
The Bounce: Should your coffers be empty, the cheque shall dishonour itself and fees will descend like crows.
The Misspelling: One wrong letter in the payee and your payment vanishes into administrative purgatory.
The Lost Scroll: Always photograph thy cheque before releasing it to the postal abyss.
Scene VI — Epilogue
Chorus of Quills:
“And so Zed mastered the ritual of the cheque, not out of love, but necessity. For though the world doth tap and ping, some pockets of parchment persist.”
Xenia (bowing):
“Remember: write the date, the name, the numbers, the words and sign. Then wait. And wait. And maybe… wait some more.”
Zed (to audience):
“I survived a cheque. I can survive anything.”
[Curtain. A fax machine screeches somewhere in the distance.]
Appendix: Glossary for the Modern Spectator
Cheque — Paper-based bank transfer request; financial cosplay.
Payee — The person/business receiving your money.
Clearing — The bank’s long walk to Mordor (2–5 working days).
Bounce — When you don’t have the funds and the bank says “lol, no”.
Hey Zed, before you go
Hey Zed, time to prove Gen Z is paying attention — subscribe to Payments:Unpacked and get in the know.
Issue 742: 26 July 2025
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