Filthy Reeeech

I know I’m never going to make it to being rich, but boy that’s a shame for mankind as I’m sure I’d be really *really* good at it.

None of this “Oh I’m going to carry on my life pretty much as it is, maybe treat my Mum to a holiday and pay off my mortgage”. None of that at all, you people are going to suffer. And yes I mean ‘you people’ in a derogatory way. What the hell is the point in being rich if you have no point of reference? And the best way to get a point of reference in my view is to flaunt my money in front of you all. Mercilessly.

I’d have staff, well, ok, minions, little people (not literally little people, the oompa loompas always freaked me out, no-one should be more orange than an actual orange). I’d have a gorgeous massage every morning, by a babe of course. Then I’d be washed and dressed by more babes. No more shopping for things like clothes, my staff would know my style (shut your fat mouth!) and simply buy new clothes for me, no more buying anything in fact, they’d know what I want and always get it for me. Unlike you ungrateful swines who *still* haven’t bought me an iPhone. One of you guilty buggers has even fondled one before I have!

It really isn’t true that things are better if you have worked for them, Think about it, the sadness caused by wanting something and knowing you’re going to have to work to get it far outweighs the pleasure of being able to have whatever you want.

Oh look, OK, basically it’s going to be employed-babe-city I admit it. The world needs a slightly less wrinkly Hugh Hefner!

Anyway, after the bathing and dressing and hand fed breakfast, one of my people will have planned my day or week or month out for me and given me the itinerary. Their mission will to be to find awesome things for me to do in my life. “Pete you’re going to Paris for weekend on a private jet” or “Pete you’re going to learn to fly a helicopter for the next few weeks”, “Pete we’ve hired an island for just you and fifty swans for a month” etc.etc.etc. They’ll arrange absolutely everything, down to tiny details like having a different car for me to drive each day and a different supermodel to sniff cocaine off each night, ooh and the badgers, a constant supply of badg…. actually, best keep that quiet.

Now I know you’re thinking “he’d get bored”, “You can’t do exciting things all your life”, “People need stability”. SHUT.UP. That’s just you saying “I ain’t going to ever be rich so it’s best that I imagine how crap it might possibly be to make myself feel better”.

I could easily manage that for the next 50yrs. Actually to be honest if my staff showed me the Ferrari I was due to drive that day and then the leggy supermodel waved to me from the passenger seat then I’d be dead within seconds, but *happy* and dead.

What about my friends and family you ask? What friends and family I answer. Buy new ones!

Now, I do admit that made me pause with doubt. That might be the flaw in my perfect plan really. Is it possible to buy people who are so good at the act that they do seem to be perfect friends? Wouldn’t they just be after my money? Well I’d be really generous and want to share my experiences with people, so providing they never ever messed up or became greedy then things would be fine. Actors manage to act, they do it for money, so surely I can buy people who act as perfect friends would work?

You’re shaking your head aren’t you. But it might. How do we choose friends anyway? It’s kind of a flawed process… who you sat next to in school, who you work with, who you share a single interest in interferring with swa… um… listening to the same music as. It’s hardly a match made in heaven as it is!

Basically, I’d rather be unhappy and yet driving a Ferrari and worrying if my friends were fake rather than poor, using public transport and happy, wouldn’t you?