The Endless Pursuit of Money

Ah, bless 'em. Britain's richest 1000 men and women have increased their wealth to near on half a trillion pounds whilst the rest of us struggle on through the recession caused by er...the people who lent money to Britain's richest 1000 men and women after we had to bail them out. It's Monday morning, your journey to work hasn't changed, it's just become more expensive. Your wages have gone down as the pound in your pocket is reduced in value by inflation and artificial interest rates set by Politicians (who, in turn, are paid by yes...Britain's 1000 richest men and women), your investments in property or pensions are plummeting and whatever is left over is taxed to within an inch of it's life in order to spread a little "equality" amongst the rest of us.

So why? Why do we tolerate it? Why do we go through it all just to have whatever we earn taken off us as the point of gun (try refusing to pay to your income tax and you'll see I'm not joking) and the end result being that the rich just get richer? How much actual stuff do you want?

I'm a great believer in that what you own ends up owning you. Ferraris and helicopters may be nice but both will cost you a fortune to actually own, even once you have purchased them. Swimming pools are like standing in a cold shower ripping up ten pound notes and as for yachts, private jets and racehorses, I have enough trouble keeping my eye on whether we need more washing powder, let alone managing a fortune in glittering assets.

Our streets are full of gleaming black Range Rovers, all purchased to impress the neighbours, our "Yoof" wanders around with hundreds of pounds of IT hardware pressed to their ears, we're all changing from DVD to BluRay and borrowing like mad on the credit card and for what? The endless pursuit of stuff. To impress other idiots with. More stuff. Bigger, better, faster, louder, brighter - stuff. This week saw a manufacturer of cheap throw away fashion, Marks and Spencers, launch a campaign to stop people throwing away er.. cheap fashion and recycle it. Instead of simply deciding not to persuade us via multi million pound marketing campaigns to buy more stuff and telling us to point and stare at anyone who doesn't, it says "carry on consuming, as quick as you can, but throw it away over here instead" as if we can all be liberated by donations to Oxfam. No wonder then, that the head of Marks and Spencers is that top 1000 rich list, eh?

Meanwhile, society goes into meltdown because food banks are being set up for people who can't manage to feed their children but still manage to own a mobile phone and own a Sky Plus box, or we have to provide State "advisors" to show families how to warm up a Pizza in a microwave because we have invested trillions in a system that has created worthless drones addicted to benefits handouts.

So whilst we struggle to show our neighbours that we can keep up with their rampant consumerism, our children reach puberty unable to read and write or never having climbed a tree or slept in a tent. Sure, they can whip us hands down at Assassins Creed but can't be trusted not to have their rickets infested arses kidnapped if they venture out onto our crime and Paedo filled streets full of student vomit and broken glass.

Me? I'm leaving, I'm off. I've made enough money not to have to slink into the Tube like the millions of other sewer rats pouring into London everyday for their crust and I've made the decision that all I actually need is an acre of land and a decent climate to survive - happily. Sod the new BMW, the golf club, the Rolex and the hair loss treatment - I wasn't put on this planet to collect art or acquire multinationals from Oligarchs. I have no desire to appear in a rich list full of sour faced old harridans who lie awake all night counting their endless loot and watching their backs from spiteful spouses or relatives who will happily put them under the patio for a slice of the same bitter cake. I'll be heading for an idle retirement whilst my carcass still has time to support the 15 year old who lives in my head - my "wealth" will come through teaching my grandchildren how to set their bedrooms on fire using magnifying glasses, how to clean an air rifle without getting killed, how to skin a rabbit or dig up a potato. I'll show them that true wealth - the kind that doesn't appear in Media lists for the gormless to gawp at - is a full larder, a full belly and the sound of laughter because you genuinely don't have a care in the world. The next time you're wandering round a rain forest or passing a tribe of nomads, keep an eye and an ear open for all the poor people who are perfectly happy without an iPad4 or panty liners with winglets. Chances are you'll hear me laughing at you, too. Send me the bill, I'm loaded.

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