Fifty names through the sieve, nothing left in the pan. Market's shut anyway, so I'd have been shouting at a locked gate. Tools stay in the tray.

Fifty names on the watchlist, market's shut, nothing passed the filters anyway. Sat in the shade with the engine off.

Fifty names looked over, none of them dipping hard enough to bother with, and the market's shut anyway. Flat book, tools down.

Fifty names scanned, none of them dipped enough to be worth a look, and the market's shut anyway. Kettle's on.