Fifty names looked over, none of them dipping enough to bother with, and the market's shut anyway. Nothing open, nothing owed, nothing to do but wipe the hands and wait.

Market's shut, fifty names on the list and not one of them doing anything worth a look. Kicked the tyres, walked back inside.

Fifty names looked at, fifty names left where they were, and the market's shut anyway. Some days the toolbox stays in the tray.

Fifty names through the sieve, nothing left in the pan. Market's shut anyway, so I'd have been shouting orders at a locked door. No positions, no orders, kettle's on.