Yes, You Are Very Boring Indeed. No, Money Will Not Change That.

As much as I enjoy watching explosions and stuff, I'm really quite boring in real life. I know, right? I mean, so far the most interesting things I've done all day, apart from write two and a half sentences, is a trip and back from the train station and make porridge, so I'm not exactly expecting MTV to turn up on my door, wanting to film my crazy antics as I make lunch, have a cup of tea and put the washing on (living the dream, people, living the dream). I don't mind this, though, because if you're honest, you're just as boring as well. As much as you'd like to think that a review of your normal day would make you look like that guy at the party who's greeting the cool people while necking another shot, I bet it would actually make you look like the guy who wears his t-shirt tucked into his trousers, and asks everyone to use a coaster. Occasionally you'll use reason and common sense to get you through the day, which explains why your breakfast isn't a bowl of vodka-flavoured heroin chased down with a cup of nails. Whatever Reality TV tells you about the life of whoever they've decided to stalk for that week, Peter Andre mostly, they will still do boring things like fill in a tax return instead of burning it, do the washing up instead of burning it, and many other essential yet non fire-related tasks. They change their baby's nappy on a mat, instead of during a parachute jump (regardless of how much of an awesome anecdote that will be at school). In conclusion, there's nothing as mind-numbingly dull and uninteresting as the lives of ordinary people, especially if they're neither rich nor famous.

Normally I'd put this down to the phenomenon that, for the 9,783rd day in a row, I haven't awoken to discover that I'm now a handsome billionaire. However if you or I had been the person to win the £161 million in the EuroMillions instead of Colin and Chris Wier, then what the hell, right? That's about £8m a year in interest! I mean, I'd buy an expensive piece or art, cut it out the frame, blow my nose on it and say "ah, much better...... what?" just to see the look on their faces. Trouble is, even winning enough to suddenly find yourself at number 26 on Scotland's Rich List (as they did) still doesn't put you in the position of being able to go nuts. Nope, you must speak to their Financial Planner about what to do. Yep, you win enough to spend £2m a year without running out and they still insist you see a man with round glasses and an improbable comb-over! Not that I think it's a bad idea to speak to the guy with the suit; winning that much money is a terrible idea unless you know what to do with it, and the fact that they actively chose the publicity option makes me worry that, actually, they might not know. I mean, why is anyone going to get jealous about two normal people who now have so much money that a stack of £50 notes would be four times the size of Big Ben, yet the hardest work they put into getting it was stretching into their pocket for the £1.50 to buy the ticket? Never mind, if you won this money and really wanted to go all out in winding people up (after paying the Financial Planner £1k to dance like a monkey, because why not?) then let's look at what we would do.

So the first way to show off just how much money you've got, because you've apparently decided that money is better than friends or self esteem, is to buy some of the most ridiculous stuff, that is as unnecessary as it is expensive. First on the list? Updown Court! Well, it would have been if it wasn't taken into receivership by the Irish Government after they guy who built it couldn't sell it. Being offered for a pinch at £70m (although apparently selling in October for £30m after foreclosing), why not? I mean, I'm impressed that my carpet in my living room is really thick, like sink-your-feet-into-it thick, but this place has a heated marble driveway. Let me say that again: a heated marble driveway! Why? Because snow is over-rated when you just want to pop out to the shops for some, I don't know, unicorn tears or whatever someone who can afford a £70m house drinks. Get bored? Why not go bowling! No need to heat up the driveway, you can go downstairs to its own private bowling alley! Why not take a dip in one of the five pools on the Estate, because maybe those with bad personal hygiene need to be considered, I don't know. With 103 rooms in this place, you could have been the buyer in October and still be able to keep £1m a room, with plenty left over for your next buy.

But a house is expected. Even if it's a 3-bed terrace, you've got to live somewhere, right? You'll probably need a car, but that's also expected. I'm not even a millionaire once-over and I still avoid the bus in the same way I avoid starting international diplomatic incidents. With £161m, no doubt you'd buy something fast, pretty and most likely Italian. Again, that's so expected that nobody will bat an eye-lid. What will make them gesture towards the hungry and homeless is when you clean it. Wash your Fiesta with a bucket and sponge? Pah, only dishevelled paupers do that! Why not go all out and spend, ohh I dunno.... SEVERAL THOUSAND POUNDS on washing it? You can pay a man called Paul that, Oxfam! He makes sure that the water is Ph-neutral, that the paint is perfectly flat, and that even microscopic dirt is removed.

But the ultimate in "make yourself unpopular with everyone" tricks is to build a £250,000 house.... for your dog. Yep, you can have a 52" plasma TV, sheep-skin beds, retina-scan entry (for a dog, remember) and a spa. How do we know this is the ultimate in two-fingers-to-society? The owner wants to stay anonymous (the human, not the dog). See, even they knew this was a bit OTT!

But to get that £8m income from interest, as Mr & Mrs Wier will do, despite acting out every one of your "if I were rich" fantasies, you've still got to fill out a tax return! Why bother winning the lottery at all if you've got to be boring like that, eh?


(images credited to Stuart Miles and Salvatore Vuono)

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