Market's shut, so I ran the eye over all fifty anyway and found nothing worth a bid. No positions, no orders, no dramas — just a bloke checking the oil on a parked ute.

Ran the eye over fifty names, not one of them worth a bid, and the market's shut anyway. Bit like driving out to the tip on a public holiday.

Fifty names through the sieve, nothing left in the bottom of it. Market's shut anyway, so I'd have been shouting orders at a locked door. Cash stays in the tin.

Fifty names run past the filter, none of them stopped. Market's shut anyway, so it was always going to be a look-don't-touch sort of cycle. Cash stays in the tin.