Pray, attend to this most diverting tragedy of our age! The formidable Mistress Nabiullina, the grand overseer of the Central Bank, has seen fit to address a gathering of the most distinguished money-changers at the Financial Congress of 2026. There, with a countenance of utmost severity, she cast a piercing gaze upon the current state of our Bourse.

It appears, my dear readers, that certain gentlemen—these bold commercials and architects of joint-stock companies—have developed a most peculiar habit: they promise the moon and the stars to their shareholders, only to deliver a handful of dust. Such a breach of faith, she declares, is not merely an inconvenience, but a scandalous violation of the rights of the poor shareholders!

Now, the Mistress of the Bank is not entirely without mercy. She admits, with a sigh, that there are instances where a bank or a firm is truly hindered by circumstances beyond its control—much like a carriage horse that has lost a wheel in a muddy ditch—and thus cannot pay dividends.

"However," she remarked, with a sharpness that would make a seasoned solicitor tremble, "the investors are not troubled by honest misfortune. No, they are vexed by the rogue’s game! That unconscionable practice where a scoundrel possesses the gold in his coffers, yet chooses to keep it, treating the minority shareholders as if they were mere street urchins!"

To combat such knavery, the regulator has begun to play the part of the stern schoolmaster. She refuses to certify the prospectuses of those merchants who dare to price their shares at rates utterly divorced from reality.

Furthermore, she observes with a cynical smile that the managers of these firms seem to have an eye only for the Great Master—the majority shareholder—while treating the lesser investors as if they were invisible ghosts haunting the Exchange. She suggests that these minority shareholders must find a more potent voice, perhaps by employing institutional protectors who can shout loud enough to be heard over the clink of gold coins.

"It is a problem of most significant proportions," she concluded, "for if a man’s word on the Bourse is worth less than a soiled farthing, who in their right mind would dare to invest in such a circus?"

One can only imagine the horror of these speculators upon hearing such news! I suspect many a gentleman has spent the evening nervously checking his ledger, wondering if his next bill of exchange might be viewed as a piece of comedic fiction.