
For over a week now, Bitcoin’s been playing a game of ‘don’t look, don’t look,’ wedged snugly between the lofty peak of $105,000 and the humble valley of $100,700. It’s a proper little Yorkshire pudding of a price—fluffy and rising, then deflating—without any real movement. The traders are like a bunch of nervous Nellies, eyeballing one another, waiting for the big bang that might turn this snooze fest into a fireworks display. And, dear reader, if history’s anything to go by, such tense moments are often preludes to the sort of dramatic upheaval that makes the Queen’s Head look like a bank vault. 🍸