The first half of January is a bit of a ghost town in the markets, not just because of the presence of our resident spectre. Some days, the SENS announcements are so sparse, you’d struggle to whip up even a Nibble, let alone a hearty Ghost Bite for a weekday mailer.

But while slow news days might still fly in the markets, you wouldn’t expect to hear it on an official news broadcast. And yet, that’s precisely what happened on Friday, April 18, 1930. British listeners tuning into the BBC News evening bulletin at 8:45 PM were greeted not with breaking news but with a calm announcement: “Good evening. Today is Good Friday. There is no news”... followed by fifteen minutes of piano music.

How did this come to pass? Well, the BBC of the 1930s wasn’t the relentless news machine we know today. Back then, they prided themselves on being curators of only the most important stories, not a repository for every sneeze and scandal. Sure, there was probably some news somewhere, but the editors decided it simply wasn’t worth reporting on that day. And that was that.

In our hyper-connected world, a “no news day” feels just as far-fetched as time travel itself. Between politics, celebrity weddings, and the latest viral nonsense, there’s always something demanding our attention. Imagine logging onto X tomorrow to find nothing but a blank screen and piano music. The collective outrage would probably generate more headlines than the lack of them.

Based on most "news" platforms these days, wouldn't it be nice to climb into a car that can time travel? A car that can take you back to a world before clickbait? A DeLorean, perhaps?

But the thing about the DeLorean story is that the inclusion in Back to the Future isn't even close to being the most interesting thing about the company, the car or the founder. John DeLorean was on a good wicket at GM before deciding to risk everything to start a car company. If ever there was a cautionary tale about the journey of entrepreneurship, this is the one. It includes production delays, dicey Irish funding structures, cocaine smuggling entrapment and finally a surprise feature in a movie that immortalised the car and the name. Oh, and there's the small matter of a legal fight around the rights to the name for a new concept car.

It's a truly wild story, as told brilliantly by Dominique Olivier in her column this week. Prepare to be shocked and intrigued! Get it here>>>

Read on for the mystery of the Toynbee Tiles, as well as the Fast Facts themed around cars.

Have a lovely day!

The Finance Ghost (follow on X) | Dominique Olivier (connect on LinkedIn)

TL;DR: Since the 1980s, licence-plate sized tiles bearing mysterious messages have been popping up in more than two dozen cities across America (and even beyond its borders). They’re called Toynbee Tiles  - and we have no idea who is making them (or why).

If you’ve ever walked the streets of Philadelphia or ventured into cities like Chicago, New York, or even Buenos Aires, you might have noticed something unusual embedded in the pavement: small, colourful tiles bearing the cryptic message, TOYNBEE IDEA IN MOViE `2001 RESURRECT DEAD ON PLANET JUPITER. Known as the Toynbee Tiles, these bizarre street art installations have puzzled pedestrians and inspired urban legends for decades. First discovered in the 1980s in Philadelphia, they’ve since been documented in dozens of cities across the United States and South America.

The tiles provide more questions than answers: Who made them? What do they mean? And how did they end up embedded in the asphalt of so many streets? Adding to the intrigue is the fact that for several years - beginning around 2011 - the tiles appeared to stop being installed altogether. But in recent years, new tiles have emerged in New York and Philadelphia, sparking renewed interest in this urban phenomenon.

The reasons for the hiatus are unclear. Some speculate that the tiler, thought to be a lone individual, may have taken a break due to age or health issues, as the project requires both physical effort and stealth. Others suggest that the release of the 2011 documentary Resurrect Dead: The Mystery of the Toynbee Tiles may have drawn too much attention to the tiler’s work, causing them to lay low for a while. Whatever the reason, the recent reappearance of the tiles has left followers and fans buzzing with curiosity.

The method of installation is as mysterious as the tiles themselves. The prevailing theory, popularised in the documentary, is that the tiler embeds the messages by coating the tiles in adhesive and dropping them through a hole in the floor of a moving car. This would explain why many tiles are found in the middle of busy streets, where it would be nearly impossible to install them unnoticed.

Then there’s the message itself, which reads like a riddle waiting to be solved. The phrase seems to combine references to several unrelated works and ideas. Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey is an obvious nod, with its storyline about rebirth and a journey to Jupiter. Ray Bradbury’s Toynbee Convector, a short story about a time traveler inspiring humanity to build a better future, offers another layer of meaning. Finally, the name “Toynbee” may refer to Arnold J. Toynbee, a 20th-century historian and philosopher who once posited that the afterlife is not automatic but a creation of human effort.

Together, these influences seem to form the foundation of the cryptic message: a call to resurrect humanity, perhaps literally or metaphorically, on another planet. But what’s fascinating is that there’s no definitive explanation. The tiles are open to interpretation, and their elusive creator has left behind no clear answers, only questions that have captivated street art enthusiasts, conspiracy theorists, and casual observers alike.

The Toynbee Tiles are a testament to the power of mystery in a world saturated with information. In an age where nearly everything can be Googled or explained, they stand out as an enduring enigma; a curiosity that invites us to stop, wonder, and look down at the streets beneath our feet.

Not quite Banksy, but certainly interesting!

An assortment of facts that will only take you five minutes to read.

• The best-selling car of all time is the Toyota Corolla. Toyota has sold more than 43 million Corollas since they were first launched in 1966.

• Ferrari manufactures just over 50 cars a day (assuming they take a break on weekends over in Maranello), a lot more than they used to in the time of the DeLorean. That may sound like a lot until you compare it to Toyota, who produce nearly 40,000 vehicles a day - also on the (likely incorrect) assumption that they don't manufacture on weekends!

• The world record of the highest vehicle mileage is 4,890,992 kilometres. Irvin Gordon was able to put that impressive number on his 1966 Volvo 1800S back in 2014. That is roughly the same distance as 120 trips around the earth.

• The famous "new car smell" is made up of about 50 volatile organic compounds. Most car manufacturers are actively trying to find ways to eliminate this smell, since it contains harmful chemicals. The volatile organic compounds, or VOCs, come from petroleum-based solvents in the plastic and vinyl parts of the car.

• The car radio was first introduced by Chevrolet in 1922. The American government wanted to ban it because it could be considered a distraction, but (fortunately for all of us), the ban didn't go through.

• The world record for the largest car collection is 7,000+ cars. The 29th Sultan of Brunei owns over 7,000 cars of all different makes and models, from extremely rare exotica through to (you guessed it) the Toyota Corolla.