: Barry's Blog

Oh deary deary me my life is so hard


GOT TO GET OUT AND MEET POOR PEOPLE

superior personalised transport

GOT TO GET OUT AND MEET POOR PEOPLE

Yesterday I awoke with a terrible pain in my wallet and decided I had to get out of my mansion.

I dressed down in cheap Gap clothing so I’d blend in with the masses and not draw attention to myself. God I felt bad.

I left, sneaking past my bodyguards, and out onto the street. I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do.

It was exhilarating just being outside. On the spur of the moment I jumped on a bus, I really wanted to see and hear poor people talking and this seemed like a good way of getting close to them.

Christ, I hadn’t been on public transport since I took acid at college. What a scene! you people are in a much worse state than I thought. The awful smell of sweat and cheap perfume made me retch.The incessant moaning and griping about this and that.

I must say it was one of the most depressing experiences of my life. I secretly placed the entire contents of my wallet, including my black Amex card, in one fat old woman’s bag and then jumped off the bus at the first stop, satisfied that I had made someone’s day.

I headed back home, but had forgotten where I lived. Nightmare really - I had to get one of my butlers to pick me up in the helicopter.

It’s actually a new Bell BA609 Tiltrotor. What a great machine. A billionaire like me could conceivably take off from the helipad of a country house outside London, fly in comfort to a meeting in Frankfurt in just 60 minutes, then fly on to Zurich, Milan and back home for early dinner. All with a minimum of ground transportation requirements..

Back home in no time!

All the best Barry

Farming Disaster

the road to hell...

Farming Disaster

Woke up the other day and realized that I’d been going about giving my fortune away all wrong.

Instead of spending the next 77 years wading through the begs trying to make the world a better place I should try and give massive chunks away at once.

At first I considered punting a few million to charities that work overseas but thought they probably had enough white Toyota Land Cruisers to be going on with. But then it hit me-I should convert a muck spreader so that instead of spreading manure it would pelt out pound coins to the poor.

I quickly set my butler, Ivan to work and within a day or two we were ready to go. Usually it would take months but that’s what money buys you-time. And tricked out muck spreaders.

It was all looking good, but then we hit a snag. Ivan, reverting to his Russian revolutionary principles, had loaded the 2 million quids worth of pound coins with the Queen’s head facing down.

Now I’m not a royalist by any means-my Lamborghini Countach has a bumper sticker of Oliver Cromwell riding a King Charles spaniel-but I knew in my heart of hearts that it was disrespectful to have the old Lizzie’s noggin facing the wrong way.

After all she’d bravely stayed in London during the war to face the Germans while my shirking grandfather had left his family at home and ran off to North Africa, Italy and the beaches of Normandy.

So I instructed Ivan to cease his communist ways and to make sure all of them were facing upwards. He estimated this would take another 48 hours, so I took the chance to hop in the ‘copter and hit the tables down in Monte Carlo.

It was a great trip, I only lost $200,000, though I did get into a fight with the singer Mick Hucknall about which was deeper man made navigation channel, the Manchester Ship Canal or the St Lawrence Seaway. He was for the St Lawrence.

Fisticuffs ensued which left him bald and me with a new ginger party wig.

By the time I got back the coins were facing the correct way and Ivan said all was ready for the distribution. I don’t mind admitting I was excited. Here I was about to get rid of nearly 2 million pounds in a fair and democratic manner.

This was going to be a great day for a great many people.

I couldn’t have envisioned how badly wrong it would turn out. Ivan had set the muck spreader to ‘extreme’ so as soon as we switched it on, by the local sheep farm, pound coins began spraying out like one of those ultra fast machine guns you get on helicopters.

I won’t go into the gory details but if you ever meet Jason & his Argonauts, tell them to stop sailing aimlessly around fighting skeletons and that the golden fleece, no make that a flock of fleeces are located near my country mansion.

We made a speedy escape, OK we trundled off at around 5 mile an hour, and it was back to the drawing board. Will i ever be rid of my fortune

SAVING THE RAIN FOREST

Tribal Rescue

SAVING THE RAIN FOREST

Heard on the radio about the discovery of the Amazonian tribe that has no concept of time and it brought back some painful memories of when I tried to do good but so nearly did wrong.

A couple of years back I had the bright idea of bringing over some of these neglected Brazilian forest dwellers to live on my vast estate snuggled in the most exclusive part of the Chilterns and giving them the life they deserved.

I didn’t have the first clue on how to go about this but money sure does buy you a lot of things and after a few phone calls and a lot of bribes I soon employed a character known as ‘Mombasa Bob’ who was famed for his people skills, or to be more precise, his people catching skills.

His preferred method was to use a net like the monkeys used in Planet Of The Apes, in fact I think he actually bought the one he was using off Charlton Heston.

 

I paid him a lot of money and off he went to Brazil, his eyes bright with zeal for my mission of mercy.

6 months later, mid-december and Bob, wearing a leather conquistador helmet with a blue parrot feather jauntily affixed to the side, turns up at the gate of my estate driving a container lorry, looking absolutely knackered.

To tell the truth I’d totally forgotten I’d even hired him. He popped open the rear doors, jumped out of the cab and motioned for me to come and have a look into the dark interior.

What I saw made my blood run cold, here were the tribe all 20 of them backed into the furthest corner of the container, shivering, looks of despondency flickering across their noble Amerindian faces.

I asked Bob what happened and he confessed that had to burn down their local forest to flush them out into his net. “It took me about two weeks” He said, “And the Rio papers said the smoke from the blaze closed airports across the amazon basin. It was a right horror show”

He also informed me that the Brazilian police were on his trail and that I should keep the tribe out of sight.

WINNING LOTTERY WAYS

To be happy is all I want - why am I doing this?

WINNING LOTTERY WAYS

Read an interesting story the other day when I was in Boston finalizing a deal to build a giant tea pot in the harbour. 

It was about a group of people, some from MIT and Harvard, who’ve come up with a foolproof way to win the lottery-the only catch being you need 600,000 dollars to invest. 

But they reckon they’ve won nearly 2 million dollars already.

 I’d say good luck to them, but from my own bitter personal experience I know that money only brings misery. 

A luxurious, wrapped in the finest furs, sipping 100 year old cognac while living in a house so high tech that the local yokels think it has been sent from the future and is inhabited by a time travelling chrononaut called 'Mr Barry' misery, but misery all the same.

Anyway have a read. 

 

http://articles.boston.com/2011-07-31/news/29836200_1_lottery-tickets-claim-prizes-massachusetts-state-lottery