Lottery Winners on acidComments Off
m posted in General moans on January 11th, 2006
This weekend’s Euro-millions lottery has a jackpot of 70 million pounds. Considering I’ve been doing the lottery, on and off, for about 11 years, I think it’s probably my turn to win. So, in anticipation of my almost inevitable jackpot win, I’m working on a shopping list. With my 70 million pounds, I’ll do or buy the following;
- New house, because the current one isn’t big enough to accommodate a pool table (9-ball).
- Pool table (9-ball), to put in new house.
- Carbon-fibre washing-up bowl and drainer set.
- A collection of flats near things I like e.g. one in Reykjavik, one in London (for gig accommodation), one in the Alps, etc. Reykjavik accommodation will inevitably end up as a base for stalking Heidrun Anna Bjornsdottir, with a view to attempting to woo her and/or persuade/pay her to make more records.
- A snowdome franchise, and the necessary land, which can be opened in Bristol. The one in Tamworth seems to succeed, so imagine if they built one in a town where people walk on their hind legs and have jobs.
- A helicopter gunship. I don’t really plan on starting any wars, but it would be nice to have it as an option for trips to factory outlet shopping centres; “Shall we take the Mazda or the helicopter gunship?” May need extra storage capacity, so I’ll see if there’s a trailer on the options list. A roof-rack seems unlikely.
- A bionic eye.
- Legitimate software licenses.
- A phone whose predictive text is based on the English language. Or any language, really.
- Small concert/village hall, with seating for about 100 people. I would then pay for the Zutons to play a gig in the hall, and invite 3 or 4 people to be in the audience. The band’s fee will be dependent on how long they stay on stage. Audience selection criteria will hinge on the level of repugnance held for the Zutons. The Zutons will come on stage, accompanied by whatever backing tape they usually use (I like to think it’s Yakkety Sax), and begin playing their bloody useless songs. As soon as the first note is struck, the crowd will begin heckling from the back of the room. After one minute, the crowd will begin throwing fruit. After 1 minute 30 seconds, they will throw unoccupied chairs at the stage. After 2 minutes and 30 seconds, they will throw spears. By the end of the first song, the saxophonist should be dead. The crowd must let out a collective yawn during the amusingly optimistic inter-song pause for applause. As the band move on to their second song, the crowd walks out and cuts the power. The doors are locked and the hall is set on fire. I will pay the rebuilding costs, and hand the hall back to the community in which it sits. The Zutons’ ashes will be mixed in with wet concrete and poured into the mouth of James Blunt until he bursts.
- “Upper Class” tickets to various world destinations, for the purchase of cheap litre-bottles of Jack Daniel’s. The tickets may be downgraded to cattle-class if I decide to send a minion instead. One doesn’t like to spoil one’s “help”.
- An Alienware PC and laptop.
- A decent home recording studio in which I can record one song every five years, and release it under a cowardly pseudonym. “The Zutons”, perhaps.
- A solid gold trowel.
- Two hundred barrels of oil, which I will place in George Galloway’s back garden while he’s further denigrating the institution of parliament in the Big Brother house.
- Llanelli Scarlets rugby team/club, who I would assist in their stated aim to embrace North Wales as part of their region, by relocating them to the top of Snowdon. May need to buy Snowdon from Anthony Hopkins and the National Trust and close the mountain railway in order to force access by foot.
- Gwent Dragons rugby team/club, who I would move from Newport to Ebbw Vale, and rename “The Ebbw Vale no-stars”.
- A completely automated washing machine and conveyer belt system, which silently transports worn clothes from bedroom to washing machine, then washes them, dries them, irons them, sorts them and delivers them to the correct shelves and drawers. Employ Trevor Bayliss as a consultant on this project, on condition that he shuts up about clockwork mechanisms and saving the third world by enabling them to listen to the World Service. The UK album chart does not a famine stop.
- A slot/fruit machine in every room (many fruit machines in The Fruit Machine Room.) Some of which will be diamond-encrusted.
The title of this post, by the way, is taken from an excellent song by The Crimea. It is not a suggestion that my new-found millions will lead me towards St. Paul’s (the area of town, rather than the London cathedral) and the dubious offerings some of its residents are able to proffer.
I will report back on Saturday - the day after the draw - to let you know how far through the list I have got. In the 24 hours between winning and posting to web log, I suppose I might have started on the interim purchases but not the main list; so I might just have bought the Aston Martin and solid gold toothbrush by that point. A revised list will be issued if I’m forced to share my millions with another winner elsewhere in Europe. Might take some of the diamonds off the fruit machines.
