Recently, my fellow blogger and all-round adventurer Jody Ruth posted a great blog about what he’d do if he won the latest ridiculously large jackpot payout on the Euromillions lottery. In fact, before you go on, if you’ve not already acquainted yourself with Jody’s excellent blog you should read about his plans for the cash. At the end of his blog he invited fellow readers and bloggers to offer their own spin on how they’d spend all that wonga. Step forward comic genius Radventures, and his blog in response, about his own particular plans for unlimited riches which you can read here.
So far be it for me to keep my tuppence-worth out of anyone’s conversation – here then is the Assassin’s Guide to Spending Your Lottery Win, which for the sake of making this a blog, not a 15,000 word dissertation, I have limited to ten points – enjoy!
1) THE HOUSE.
Because let’s face it, as wildly extravagant and care-free as we’d all like to be with that much money, most people’s thoughts will sooner or later turn to the subject of security. Now, I’m just going to take it as read here that I’ll have made sensible investments with some of the cash to ensure my ongoing comfort, since a protracted paragraph on the comparative merits of ISA’s and long-term high yield accounts will prove as entertaining to most of you as a lecture on horseshoes of England, 1745-1806. Instead, let’s focus on that other staple of security – the home I live in.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my home. I own a pleasant 3-bed town house with a beach five minutes from my door, and 13 (yes, count them, 13) bars within a five minute walk of my front door. Times could be harder. But it simply doesn’t suggest the grandeur and elegance one expects from the home of a man as rich as Croesus. But how could I find such a home without having to leave the island I love and grew up on?? Simple. It’s already here.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Osborne House, former residence of Her Royal Majesty Queen Victoria of England. Located less than ten miles from my current abode, it lends itself ideally to the noveau-riche arrogance I shall be enjoying, with the palatial Italian styled gardens and surrounding estate providing ample room for quad-biking, rallying and so on, whilst the enormous high ceilinged rooms give more than adequate space to house my collection of games consoles, flat screen tv’s, jacuzzi’s and stereo equipment. Or at least they will do, once I drag out and burn all the historic tat they’ve got the place cluttered up with.
I mean, who cares about history anyway, right?? Besides, just look at the potential for a place this size – in fact, just to show I’m not spoiled by my new-found riches, I’ll invite all the Island’s homeless, travellers and itinerant gypsies to come and live on the grounds – I’m sure their sense of history and occasion will prompt them to keep the place tidy, no?? In fact I may well take on promoter John Giddings at his own game and begin to host the World Famous Isle of Wight Festival here instead – hot and sweaty ravers could cool off in the 19th century fountains whilst their friends danced among the daffodils, laughed among the lavender and puked in the petunias. Now all I need to do is get Led Zep out of retirement to headline…..
2.TAKE CARE OF THE FAMILY.
Any man who got this wedge of cash dropped on him and didn’t immediately make sure his nearest and dearest were taken care of would be the worst kind of cad and bounder. However I am just referring to those I think of as my close family, not the 174 random relatives who will appear overnight from the far corners of the globe drawn by the money like flies to a freshly coiled turd. Honestly, this kind of person makes my skin crawl, thinking that ‘family’ is an automatic pass to a share in the riches – where were you when I worked at McDonald’s as an ashtray? No, I’m talking about those guys who you acknowledge were instrumental in helping you cling vainly to life with your fingernails long enough for fortune to bail your sorry ass out. Time to make some pay-back. The kids would receive the finest in private tuition (no top education venues for them, they’ll keep both feet firmly planted in the real world thank you), and my Dad would finally realise a childhood dream of owning one of the greatest British cars EVER – the ‘E’-type Jaguar. In fact, he’ll have one for every day of the week.
In short, every person I feel I owe a debt of gratitude to will reap the benefits, ten-fold. And everyone else will reap my middle finger, held aloft in the ‘oh-i’m-sorry-but-the-answer-will-have-to-be-no’ position. Then, once I know that no matter what, my loved ones are set up for life, I can move on to the one person who deserves to be spoilt rotten more than any other…
3. SPOIL MY WIFE ABSOLUTELY ROTTEN.
It’s easy to sit out there in blog-land reading this and think to yourself “Hell, that guy is soooo hitting the first strip club he comes across like a freakin’ tsunami!!”. But sorry to burst your bubble readers, happily married men are not a product of romantic fiction or Sex and the City – we really exist. I seriously wouldn’t swap my wife for all of the women in the world – she’s my soul-mate and best friend, my staunchest supporter through hard times, always ready with words of encouragement and sighs of resignation implying permission to act the fool … plus she could suck-start a Harley through a hose pipe. So there will be no hookers, no cheating, no using my new-found wealth to pull air-headed bimbos with the IQ of a toaster. That having been said, my wife will own every item of sexy underwear in existence, a personal trainer and her own private gym, and the finest personal shoppers money can
buy bribe. So I’m not really suffering now, am I guys 🙂
4. BROOM BROOM, TIME FOR SOME TOYS.
Right, that’s the sensible stuff done with, … lets shop!!! Right off the bat, don’t be stood between me and the nearest Harley dealership, because there’s a Panhead somewhere out there with my name on. I’m sure people will be writing in saying ‘really Assassin, a panhead?? Isn’t that a bit predictable?’ Well, maybe, but ever since I first laid eyes on this beast it’s been an unrequited love affair.
Obviously this will be joined in the garage by an ‘E’-type Jaguar, because I share my dad’s love of these beautiful cars. But every millionaire needs something a little more … zippy to impress the slavering proletariat at the gates, so step forward the Ariel Atom, another fantastic result of British engineering. Anyone not yet familiar with the lunacy of this awesome motor should check this link – now!! Frankly I’d be happy to stop there, but for good measure you may as well chuck in a Bugatti Veyron for the shop run, a Lamborghini Murcielago for dropping the kids off at school, and an assortment of tanks. Yes, tanks. The Isle of Wight is full of strange people, and one of them is a friend who has ties to the ex-military sales in Germany and Russia, so very soon I’d have a whole warehouse of ex cold war vehicles to terrorise the pensioners with at the Post Office. Anarchist??? MOI???????
5. ONE LOVE – SPREADING THE HAPPINESS.
Some of you will know by now that the Assassin has a bit of a love affair with Jamaica. I’ve only been there once, but I’ve read up on it an awful lot and made it my mission to get to know more about it when i finally got to go there. If you want to know more there’s one blog up already on this site with some info, and more to come, so go and read it if you want to get some background. Suffice to say that Jamaica faces poverty and hardship almost on a par with the far more publicised countries the Red Cross are always chasing you to donate your spare change to. Yet despite this hardship every Jamaican I spoke to was friendly and warm, despite the fact that a lot of their problems stem from the British government dumping them when the British Empire began to collapse. So rather than make some random charity donations to faceless organisations I don’t really care about, in a vain effort to assuage my massive ethical debts, I’d go to Jamaica and build some schools. Access to education is a real issue for kids over there, so I’d be happy to provide all the materials they needed to ensure they have a better chance of making good for themselves than they do at the moment. Plus I’d be giving to a bunch of people I genuinely care about, and who gave to me unstintingly when they had no call to.
6. ENGLISH EDUCATION SYSTEM
Now here’s where I go to town. I’m not interested (at this point anyway) in engaging in a debate about just where and why the system of education in this country is or isn’t failing our kids, but its an increasingly obvious fact that standards of education are somehow, somewhere, for some unknown reason, falling into a disgraceful state. Our children sound like American commercials, and with no disrespect to our American cousins implied whatsoever, there are some big differences between English as we know it and American English, and we’re not living in America. Grammar and diction are poor, vocabularies are shrinking and we are in danger of losing our greatest asset as a small country – the power and reputation of our thinkers. So without a doubt I would look for some way to inject some cash into ensuring that our children and grandchildren can continue to take full advantage of the wonderful cultural inheritance our language has given us. I may even introduce a culling policy where the lowest scoring ten percentile of each school year is sent to the firing squad, to raise the intellectual gene pool out of the swamp it’s sinking into.
7. Re-introduce National Service.
Not as difficult as you may think – after all it’s just as simple as bribing the right politician, and let’s face it, I’m rich by this point. So why bother?? Well, put simply this country is going the freaking dogs, and I for one am sick of it. This once proud nation is increasingly populated by poorly educated (see above!), under-achieving spongers with no inclination for hard work and who seem to think this mythical many-pocketed money beast known as ‘The Government’ should just give them and their 75 kids everything for free. Casual violence and disrespect is escalating day by day, children have begun tooling up to go to school and no-one seems to give a damn. And I strongly believe that the one thing we lack now compared to a few decades ago as a nation is Discipline. We no longer have a culture which finds it acceptable to spank a child at school or even in your own home, and without the firmer discipline our parents and grandparents took for granted our children and eventually our grandchildren will continue to become the kind of irritating little gobshites that are well and truly overdue a firm backhand to the face. So I say bring back National Service – make it compulsory for every school leaver to serve two years in the armed forces to instill some discipline and sense of respect into them before they’re left to their own devices. After all, everyone’s going to think it’s a good idea – I’m rich, so I am right. That’s the way the world works, you know.
8. THE MUSIC ROOM.
Right, no more fucking about. Enough attempting to use my cash to right social injustices, or kill the word ‘innit?’. In my new pad at Osborne House there are some rooms with VERY high ceilings and enormous size. Cue my moment to indulge in a long-denied treat that, frankly, I bloody well deserve for being such a thoroughly nice bloke. My Music Room. Enormous collection of music on both CD and vinyl, because as much as I love great sound quality I’m a sucker for the atmospheric hiss and crackle of real records. Sound system of at least 5 kilowatts in power, top of the line speakers and seperates, and SOME SOUND PROOFING!!!! (Sorry, what?). And against the other wall………………
I’m a big fan of Marshall Amplification. It has big serious looking buttons on it and if you turn them to the right very very loud things come out of them. Joy. And as well as the wall of 4×12 speaker cabs driven by JCM 2000 series heads, I’d need a small selection of classic amps as well – Vox AC30 being at the forefront of those. And to go with them, an enormous guitar collection – guitars to me are like works of art, get a good one and I can just sit and gaze longingly at it for ages – I want enough guitars to make Joe Bonamassa’s collection below look like the top shelf rejects from a thrift-store.
Throw in a whole box full of effects – the Jim Dunlop Cry Baby wah-wah pedal, FuzzFace distortion pedal, a Marshall Gov’nor, the list goes on and on, and finally I can indulge in my favourite pastime – the one my wife lovingly refers to as ‘being a noisy bugger’. I love music, especially loud rock music, and the massive grounds surrounding my house should just about ensure that the neighbours are never forced to endure my playing. You see, the irony is that I’m not a very good guitarist. But since when did logic and money ever make good bed-fellows???
My biggest regret is that I didn’t travel more when I was younger. Now, in what seems like a blink of an eye, my obligations to work, family, and most importantly the constant stream of bills, prevents me from getting away from England very often if at all, and I watch younger friends jetting off on adventures with barely disguised green-eyed jealousy. So I’d be grabbing the platinum card and heading off all over the place to finally make good on that dream. My new-found wealth would give me the ability not only to visit anywhere my mood took me, but to finally catch up with friends and family in other countries; pop over to America for a spot of tea and cakes with Mr and Mrs Radventures this afternoon, then Lear Jet it back to England to watch Jody Ruth win another beach football tournament tomorrow. To be honest, the draw of the whole travelling lifestyle may well prove so strong that I just live out of a plane for a few years until I get bored. What’s that Mrs Assassin?? Out of coffee again?? No problem – I’ll nip over to Blue Mountain in Jamaica and grab some. Want me to swing by New York for bagels on the way back????
10.TRAIN TO BE A NINJA.
“If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared” – Machiavelli.
Or to put it another way – payback’s a bitch. Whilst hopefully few and far between, all of us will at some point or another come across those people who wrong us in ways that make us want to throw caution and the law to the wind and just stab them in the eye with a biro. Unfortunately even with a lot of money the only way to take them out without arrest would be to hire an assassin (and trust me, I know) and for me that’s just not personal enough. If I’m going to eradicate another human being for crossing me, I want to be so close when it happens they can tell I had garlic bread for lunch. And the only way to achieve this is to become a ninja. So, fuelled by the whole two years of kung fu I did when I was twelve years younger, I will travel to hidden monasteries and learn how to spit poisoned needles from bamboo tubes, break spears with my throat, and walk on rice paper without leaving any footprints. Before returning and laying the smack down on the candy asses of every bastard who ever wronged me. So if you’re one of those people, and you hear on the news that the lottery was won by a man from the Isle of Wight, start checking the rooftops when you’re walking home at night……….