I woke recently to the news, via email, that I’d won the Euromillions lottery. Not unnaturally I was pretty chuffed about this and, although my £4 prize won’t necessarily be life-changing, at least it covers the cost of the £2.50 I… errr… invested in the ticket.
Back in the 1990s, a friend of ours was a SPAD to Norman Lamont – alongside David Cameron – when John Major’s government first decided to set up the lottery and I remember him quite clearly telling me over dinner, that it was, in effect, a ‘tax on stupidity’ (to use his exact phrase). I’m realist enough to recognise that I have an infinitesimal chance of winning a big prize but optimist enough to be certain that if I don’t have a ticket I’m definitely not going to win. Consequently I occasionally buy a ‘lucky dip’ ticket, if I remember in time.
But the win set my wife and I talking on a slightly off-the-wall topic whilst we walked the dogs that morning. If one did win a massive fuck-off multi-million pound prize, what would one definitely NOT buy? It turns out there’s quite a list.
Anyway, these are my top five things that I wouldn’t spend any of my winnings on:
- A supercar. Is it possible to imagine any more tragically futile scenario than a balding, middle-aged bloke with sudden access to virtually unlimited cash buying a Ferrari, McLaren or Lamborghini? Thought not. Come to that, age isn’t really an issue: anyone buying one is pretty desperate. Likewise, any sports car. If you make enough wedge in your twenties or early thirties to afford one, OK, you may just about get away with it but… really?
- A yacht. Every summer the Daily Mail ‘sidebar of shame’ is crammed with pictures of ageing male celebs floating around the Mediterranean on yachts crammed with scantily-clad lovelies ‘flaunting their bikini bodies’. OK, a superficially attractive scenario but I’m willing to bet that there is considerably less hedonistic group sex taking place than one would imagine. Plus, these bad boys don’t sail themselves so at all times you’re going to be surrounded by numerous hairy arsed matelots, which will doubtless but a damper on any hedonistic ‘romping’ – to use the official tabloid term.
- Cosmetic surgery. The only cosmetic operations which ever look good are minor fixes to people who are otherwise pretty good looking to start off with. An itty-bitty nose straightening here; a nip and tuck there; a discreet tattoo removal… but don’t go the full Katie Price/Bride of Wildenstein, because all you’ll do is frighten children and family pets, and make your friends make jokes behind your back. Nobody wants that. As for hair transplants, just say no.
- A Coat of Arms. A friend of ours is a member of the College of Arms and will be cross with me for pointing this out, but coughing up for ‘proper’ arms is pathetic desperation personified. If, like me, you come from what is essentially a Welsh peasant/English shopkeeper background, own it. A beautifully illuminated Coat of Arms will be a nice decorative piece, but it won’t make you posh; just needy.
- Watches. I’ve got a vintage (ie, about 2 years old) Apple watch; and an older ‘G10’ military-type watch which I rarely wear. Both tell the time pretty accurately and the Apple watch also monitors exercise etc. So why would I want a Rolex? Answer: I wouldn’t. (But the expensive watch thieves who are allegedly legion round where I live would, I have better things to do than fight off hordes of muggers so I’ll stick with what I’ve got).
On the other hand, I quite fancy a new bicycle and the house could do with redecoration, so I would probably spank a bit of cash on that; and maybe get some clothes that fit me properly…
Adrian Weale 