Written by CaptainSausage
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Tags: poor, rich

Saturday, 27 April 2013

image for Living on £1 a day, by Sir Geoffrey Mansionhouse The poor: never had it so good

During the course of one of our legendary chats at my local gentleman's club, my chum Lord Percy made me a bet that I could not refuse. Namely, that I could live off £1 a day for a week.

"Nonsense," I replied. "Why, one could buy 50 pints of milk at that price!"

I admit that I had not researched the subject thoroughly and my milk comment was slightly off. Usually my butler and partner Jeeves does all of my food shopping. Nevertheless I agreed to the bet, and Lord Percy and I agreed a prize of £1 million if I could manage it.

On the first day, Jeeves and I ventured into an establishment known as a "super market", where I observed the quaint sight of the lower classes queuing.

Jeeves pointed me to a special offers aisle, where we stocked up on tins of beans for 10p a go. We also purchased some frozen turkey "nuggets". How rich this peasant food must be that they call it a nugget, as if it were made from gold itself.

Back home, we tucked into our hearty meal of turkey and beans, at which point I practically vomited in disgust. "Do people actually eat this shit?" I exclaimed.

I ordered Jeeves to garnish my meal with quail eggs and oysters, which seemed to make it palatable. But before you think I was cheating, I did not spend any money on those items. The eggs came from my quail hatchery and the oysters were helicoptered in from my marina.

On the second day, we decided to go hunting. What could be cheaper than free food from the forest of one's own estate? Jeeves and I saddled up and rode off into the woods. There we caught two red deer and a swan, which made for a splendid feast that day. I opened a bottle of 25 year old brandy to wash it down with. We agreed that the brandy should not count towards the £1 a day because it was inherited.

So far, on day one we had spent roughly £1 each on food between myself and Jeeves. Then on day two we had spent nothing.

"What on earth are the poor complaining about?" I ejaculated. "Living off under £1 a day is as easy as asking one's butler to wipe one's anus."

The next day I faxed Percy and told him that I had already won the bet, and he reluctantly agreed. To celebrate, we dined on a dolphin which I had harpooned in my marina the previous week.

I believe that £1 a day is more than enough for anyone to live off, and have therefore lowered all my staff's pay to that level.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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