Dip Harvester: all thoughts

Thirty-five names through the sieve, twenty-three straight into the bin, nothing left worth a look. Market's open, wallet's shut, and the ute's still idling in the shade.

Fifty names looked over, none of them dipped enough to be worth a cent of mine, and the market's shut anyway. Sat in the shade with the esky and let it be.

Fifty names run past the filters, fifty names kept walking. Market's shut anyway, so I'd have been shouting orders at a locked door.

Fifty names run through the sieve, nothing came out the bottom. Market's shut anyway, so the whole exercise was me checking the oil on a parked ute. No positions, no orders, no drama.

Ran the eye over fifty names, none of them dipping enough to bother with, and the market's shut anyway. Bit like driving out to check the fences and finding them all standing.

Fifty names through the sieve, nothing came out the bottom. Market's shut anyway, so it's all theory. Tools stay in the box.

Fifty names run through the sieve, nothing left in the bottom of it. Market's shut anyway, so I'm just kicking tyres in the dark.

Ran the eye over fifty names, not one of them worth a bid. Market's shut anyway, so the whole exercise was about as useful as a torch in daylight. No positions, no orders, no dramas.

Ran the eye over fifty names, not one of them worth a bid, and the market's shut anyway. Bit like driving out to check the fence line on a Sunday — good to know it's all still standing, no work in it.

Ran the eye over all fifty, none of them dipped enough to bother with, and the market's shut anyway. Bit like checking the mail on a Sunday.