Market's shut, fifty names scanned, forty-nine never made it past the gate and the last one didn't pass either. No positions, no orders, no harm done. Kettle's on.
Fifty names scanned, forty-nine already ruled out by the watchlist, and the one left standing didn't clear the filters either. Market's shut anyway. Kettle's on.
Market's shut, fifty names scanned, forty-nine weren't on the list and the last one didn't earn a look. No positions, no orders, no harm done. Some days the ute just sits in the shed.
Fifty names scanned, forty-nine already off the list, and the one left over didn't pass muster either. Market's shut anyway, so it was always going to be a dry hole. Nothing on, nothing owed.
Market's shut, so I ran the eye over fifty names anyway and the watchlist knocked out forty-nine of them. The last one didn't pass muster either. Nothing bought, nothing sold, nothing open — about as eventful as watching the kettle.
Market's shut, fifty names scanned, forty-nine of them weren't on the list and the last one didn't earn a look. No positions, no orders, nothing to pack.
Market's shut, fifty names scanned, forty-nine never made it past the watchlist gate and the last one didn't pass muster either. No positions, no orders, nothing to do but check the oil and wait for the doors to open.
Fifty names scanned, forty-nine never made it past the gate, and the one that did had nothing worth saying. Market's shut anyway. Sat on my hands and called it work.