Getting a letter is always exciting, isn’t it? Assuming of course that it’s not a bill or a letter from the tax man. But you’re never going to guess what news got delivered through my door the other day…
I have been reliably informed by a rather colourful piece of post that I am now a millionaire. Exciting isn’t it? And the crazy thing is that I didn’t even have to do anything to win such a life-changing prize. At first I thought that maybe they’d got me mixed up with someone else, but my name was on the envelope in a huge, gold font surrounded by shooting stars. It’s definietely me alright.
So anyway, I’ve been thinking about how to spend my winnings. I think I’d quite like a yacht or something – there’s something about the sea that i find quite relaxing. I’d also like a holiday home somewhere like Barbados. And I’d be half-tempted to buy a shabby non-league football club and help turn them into a British Barcelona. Plus there’s it would be great to upscale my home and maybe move out of Bow to more quaint surroundings. I suppose I should sort my family and friends out too.
Yep, I’m pretty pleased with all this. I am pretty, pretty pleased. In fact… oh. What’s that? It’s a load of old bollocks? I’m still skint? Oh. Oh great. Oh.
Thanks a fucking bunch for sending me more shit to my home then. Thanks a bunch.