Ironic really that that so many poor people are fat. I pondered this thought as I wandered through my newly acquired stately home in the beautiful Oxfordshire countryside. My interior designer, Roger, was working out how to get rid of some of the original features without upsetting the English Heritage people as we strolled around the vast interior. Roger isn’t fat and he’s quite rich too. Of course it wasn’t always this way. You only have to watch a BBC television costume drama to see that it used to be the other way around. Poor people were skinny in those days and the landed gentry were the fat ones. How times have changed. Nothing marks you out as a lazy pauper than a bit of obesity. I think it is down to bad diet and a lack of exercise. Africans aren’t fat and they don’t have much cash but they are out and about all day carrying buckets.
big money misery
Saw that Tuesday night’s jackpot euro lottery ticket-a fairly reasonable amount of $260 million dollars-went to one winner in England.
I say good luck to whoever has had the misfortune to strike it rich-it brings nothing but misery.
Look at me, nothing to keep me warm at night except the 100 dollar bills I throw on the fire.
No-one to love me except women who are more interested in the material things in life than the spiritual.
That’s why I’m giving it all away and when the last penny is gone I’ll become a hermit who lives in a house made of seashells far away from civilization.
So I say to whoever has won (their identity isn’t known yet) good luck, you’ll need it.
Turns out the mystery lottery winner is me!
I was going though my pockets and just found the ticket with the jackpot numbers on. I accidently bought it when I was buying a packet of cigarettes in the local costcutters the other day (something I usually get Ivan my butler to do but I’d given the day off to go to see to problems with his import export business).
I wondered why when I asked for a pack of ‘Lucky Strikes’ the server gave me a pack of Marlboro golds and a strange looking receipt-he thought I was asking for a ‘Lucky dip’ on the lottery!
Now I have another 260 million dollars to go on the millions I already have and don’t want. What will I do now?!!!!!
UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE
Thank G-d-it turns out i haven't won the lottery at all. The numbers had got smudged against the Faberge egg i always carry in my pocket. What a lucky escape, but i'm still left with the problem of getting rid of the rest of my millions.
Give me the cash
Hey Barry, I read your reply to one of the beggars below about credit cards and how you hate them. I think you'll sympathise with my plight. i owe over 40,000 pounds on 6 credit cards. i can't make the minimum payments and the stress is beginning to make me ill. Could you please send me the 40K and i will send you my cut up cards as proof that i've stopped my spending. It's not as if i've anything to show for it-i've pissed it all up the wall trying to impress girls, i now realise are out of my league. Thanks jason
Begging for money
My name is Billy Eaton, I am seven years old and I’m a very sick little boy. I’m not writing this myself, my grandmother is typing this because, as will become clear, I find it very difficult to hit the keys. But these are my words. I hope you can help.
The reason I am ill is because I was born without a body. It doesn’t hurt, except when I try to breath, move my eyelids or play basketball.
The doctors have tried to do all they can and they have made me an artificial body. But because we are so poor it is made out an Adidas sports bag filled with conkers. I hope you can send me some money so I can have a better artificial body. It will have to be soon as the conkers are beginning to rot and bring on Grandma’s asthma.
If you can’t help could you forward my email to people who can help, but I trust you have a good heart and can see I am a good cause, it would make me so happy if I could finally have a body not made of the fruit of the horse chestnut tree. Perhaps something made of metal. Cash or cheque is acceptable.
Billy has worsened since I wrote this. He now has mildew on his zip. Please send the money quickly.
Begging for money
Please read my letter with goodness in your heart
I used to work in an abbatoir processing cattle. I was the man who used the bolt gun. It was hard, but rewarding work and as a bonus you would get the best steaks on a Friday. I was happy and life was going well.
Then one day last November I slipped on some guts and fired the gun into my head. The bolt went straight into my brain. You can imagine what pain I was in but after two weeks thankfully I’d fully recovered.
But now everytime I go near electrical equipment such as the kettle or washing machine my head tingles and my eyes start to bulge and I hear a voice in my head telling me to “Get my ass to Mars” or “Give this people air”
I watched a movie entitled ‘Total recall’ the other night and I heard thses very words. I now need 15.99 to buy said movie to study it more closely to get to the bottom of my condition.
Simon In Nuneaton