Learn with Kev: The Art of Being Rich

Hard work rewarded when rich aunt dies

It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, being rich, you know. I get up in a morning and have to walk half a mile from my bedroom to the kitchen. Then I have to choose something from a big long list of fancy dishes for my chef to cook.

I sometimes reminisce about the days when I had No Frills fruit and fibre. That stuff certainly keeps you regular.

Life’s not always been like this though, and I often have to remind myself of where I came from. It was actually the West Wing, seventh door on the left. Take a wrong turn on the way to breakfast and I could be lost for days.

Growing up, it was pretty tough in our house. We didn’t have two pennies to rub together which is what rich people spend most of their time doing. It was a rough area as well. My mum sent me to the corner shop to get her some tights and they asked me what head size I wanted. She used to say to me, “If you get murdered, I’ll kill you!”.

But then, one day, I bought an apple for 10p, shined it up and sold it for 20p. The day after I bought two apples, shined them up and sold them for 40. The day after that, some long lost aunt died and I inherited £40 million. That’s capitalism for you, it rewards hard work and enterprise.

Now I spend my time on helicopters and yachts or just lost in the West Wing.

Turns out it’s much more fun being loaded than being skint, especially when you’ve got more money than sense.

It’s a rich man’s world, you see, and money makes it go round. People do say it’s better to go to heaven in rags than hell in embroidery but I’m guessing they’ve never worn a £15,000 suit.

Some rich people get a bit obsessed by the material things. A friend of mine crashed his car and sobbed, “My Porshe, my Porshe!”

The paramedic said forget your car, look at the state of your arm. And he said, “My Rolex, my Rolex!”.

If you have got lots of cash then it’s a good idea to get an accountant and, luckily, my brother’s a brilliant one.

He reckons there are just three kinds of accountants in this world, the ones who can count, and the ones who can’t.

Mine is a story of rags to riches and you can do it too, if you’ve got a burning desire to better yourself, or an aunt who gets hit by a truck.

I’d say, though, that it’s better to be poor and happy than rich and sad.

Always remember that having money isn’t everything, although it doesn’t half keep the kids in touch.

Next week… The Art of being Honest.