Did I say Toyota?

You must be joking! I sneered at such crap, the paupers can run around in them tin cans. I ain’t - or I wasn’t – probably might now though! Anyway, clothes, all designer of course – Versace, Gucci, Prada – blah, blah, blah – you get the picture. Watches, what do you think? Certainly wasn’t C-A-S-I-O, was it! Holidays in the sun, first class travel, first class this and first class that. What d’ya expect me to do? Slum it in some caravan, tent, dingy hotel or a bed-sit, you must be joking!

My house. A fucking mansion, of course. Swimming pool, Olympic size, of course – well, it just had to be, didn’t it? So many rooms it could have been an overspill for the Dorchester: snooker room, games room, cinema, gym, kitchen the size of a football pitch. Couldn’t cook though – didn’t matter – there were Cordon Bleu chefs for that, well you didn’t think I’d be eating Wimpy or Muckdoonalds, or shitty Bugger King? Only idiots dine in those gaffs – riff raff – low in intelligence and short on cash. Poor fuckers!

Bedrooms, too many to count, of course, but the action they saw…God the action they saw. Ever heard the saying ‘If I could be a fly on the wall’? Well let me tell you – a fly on any of those walls would have been well impressed – all those eyes popping out at once – that’s how impressed fly would have been.

Get the picture?

No?

Well, let me S-P-E-L-L it out – Wes–sex, Sus-sex, Es-sex, Middelefuckin–sex, a veritable geographical feast of sex, and I was the Don. You better believe it! No bird left my pad unfulfilled, and there were hundreds of them, all satisfied, with no expectations. No ugly birds either – all stunnas – blondes, brunettes, gingers – or is that strawberry blondes? Whatever! Blue eyes, green eyes, brown eyes.  All colours. Never mind the eyes, it was the legs, the arses and the great big…yeah, yeah. I never said kiss and tell, but I'm sure you get the picture, and if you don’t by now then you have lived a very sheltered life - how bloody sad!

Don’t be jealous of me – just because I had it all. The money helped, but my great looks, brilliant personality, animal magnetism, generosity, and a whole list of wonderful attributes, shaped my life. A life that was fanfuckintastic. Unbelievable and pure exsta-bloody-c. Exalted dee-light. A brain numbing emotional roller coaster of experience, and all this because of King Arthur and his fairy story life. His gaff at Camelot, his bird – what’s her name – Guernervive – something like that and a stupid sword called Excalibur. Why did someone call a sword Excalibur? Do you reckon they were tripping or something?

Anyway, who cares? Certainly not me, and certainly not when my numbers came up trumps. Talk about euphoria - in an instant I was transported to another world, another life, a land that I had previously never known: Never, Never Land. Never having to worry about a thing, or anyone. Who the fuck ever worried about me? No one, that’s who, so boo fucking hoo if you don’t like it. Go cry, to the bleeding hearts brigade, they’ll give a toss! Or maybe they won’t.

‘Spare some change Guv?’ Fuck off you ponce. Get a life, get a job, don’t ask for fuck all. This is mine, I deserve it, I am someone, I have everything I want. My dreams have come true. Ecstatic bliss, for about an hour.