MONEY money money. Must be funny. In a rich man’s world. Man, Abba had it so right on.
It’s true that money solves a lot of problems. Whether it solves more than it creates is still up for debate, but the new craze of wanting more money than you could ever spend is beyond me.
Take, for instance, the new song I Wanna Be A Billionaire by Travis “Travie” McCoy. He wants to be a billionaire “so frickin’ bad”, apparently. I mean, sure, I’d like a few million, but billions? I don’t want it that frickin’ bad.
Second on his wish list is wanting to be on the cover of Forbes magazine, smiling next to Oprah and the Queen. Frankly, I’d just be mortified I was standing next to two auld ones. But that’s just me. To be honest, given that I’d never even heard of this “Travie” fella before I googled the lyrics to the song --whereas I have a vague recollection of who Oprah and the Queen are I’m pretty sure he’ll be spared the humiliation for the foreseeable future.
Besides, the Queen wouldn’t be seen dead standing next to someone with such a ridiculous name. No doubt, she’d have the secret service dispose of him immediately. (One simply detests peasants with their silly little names. Off with his head!)
It seems this “Travie” person also sees his name in shining lights every time he closes his eyes. Now I don’t want to alarm anybody, but that could be a serious neurological condition. In which case he actually will need all those billions. Neurologists, as with all medical professionals in this country, don’t come cheap.
So this song being constantly played on the radio, coupled with my frustrating failure to win the Euromillions the other week, means I’ve got money on the brain.
But I’m not like this Travie guy; a few million would do me nicely. Just enough to get by, like. I’m not greedy.
I have my eye on a beautiful mansion in north Dublin overlooking the sea. It’s only €5million, but I reckon I’d be able to knock them down to €4million, or at least €4.5. I mean, we’re in the middle of a recession, after all. And then a nice car to go with it. Nothing too flashy, but something with heated seats. And it wouldn’t even have to have a TV in it. See, not greedy at all.
Then I’d have to go on a massive shopping spree to New York. And I’d have to fly first class. Not because I’d be splashing the cash, but simply because I don’t like flying, and the comfort of first class would put me at ease. And you can’t really go on a huge shopping spree like that without having a chauffeur and someone to carry your bags around. The indignity!
My family, of course, would have to be brought on a lavish holiday, with spending money. I’d have to buy them a beautiful house in the West, and have it kitted out in all the latest and greatest, with a whole room dedicated to mammy’s shoe collection.
But these things are for my family, not me, so it can’t be classed as greedy. In fact, it could be considered decidedly generous. As could the massive party I’d throw for all my friends. It’s only fair that they share in the good times too.
Also, I’d fulfil my lifelong dream of buying an island. Somewhere warm and relaxing, but not deserted. I mean, the idea of having a whole island all to yourself is only appealing until you realise you need a pint of milk.
All in all, a few hundred million should cover it. You know, just for the bare essentials. That doesn’t even factor in unforeseen expenses, like if a giant lizard attacks the Big Apple and I have to batten down the hatches for a while. Or if the island suddenly comes under attack from pirates and I need to prepare the defences. Situations like that can be costly.
Oh go on then, make it a billion. Just in case.