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GOT TO GET OUT AND MEET POOR PEOPLE

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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

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