Noon, Friday 16 April: Team P Zoomie. Geek Boy is 10 minutes into a bewildering spiel on how Non-Fungible Tokens (NFTs) will open the floodgates to virtual property trading. Charlie Boy bursts in: “Enough of the [redacted] NFTs. No punter on Earth would be dumb enough to buy kit that exists only in cyberspace!”
Geek Boy simpers the way teachers do at five-year-olds. “Imagine Lord Foster producing a sketch for a 2,000-ft tower with a cherry on top. What might that be worth?” Charlie Boy snorts: “Sod all, given you can’t rent cyberspace!”
Geek Boy further infuriates Charlie, a Savills reject in his fifties and a Dodo in GBH terms. “William Shatner has just sold an X-ray of his teeth for $1,000! NFTs are just electronic strips of DNA that prove ownership. Investors are already paying millions for bytes of art, clips of baseball players and, yes, Captain Kirk’s gob. Now, it’s property’s turn. Some chump has just paid $514,557.79 for a virtual house.”
Blimey. “What’s our angle?” I ask. “Obvious,” cries Geek Boy. “GBH sets up the trading platform and takes a cut. You know, like in the real world!”
Go over the technical stuff again, I stupidly suggest. An hour later none of us is any the wiser. I don’t think I’ll take this one Upstairs.
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