If I Were A Rich Man

Posted by Jacko | Filed under ManChat

Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.

What a song, ey?

Fiddler on the roof, “If I Were A Rich Man.”  If I were a rich man, I’d be singing “Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum”, pretty much 24/7.

What I would not be singing is:

I’d fill my yard with chicks and turkeys and geese and ducks
For the town to see and hear.
(Insert)Squawking just as noisily as they can. (End Insert)
With each loud “cheep” “swaqwk” “honk” “quack”
Would land like a trumpet on the ear,
As if to say “Here lives a wealthy man.”

What?

The last thing I would be doing after winning the lottery is buying poultry. What a shit, shit verse. I don’t care if it is sung by a poor milkman in early 20th century Russia, there must have been something better he could have wished for such as a prostitute made out of solid gold, or even a prostitute holding a big bag of gold, or even a prostitute who knew where some gold was, or even a prostitute who wasn’t ridded with STIs, or even a prostitute who was riddled with STIs (Jacko says: “Rubber Up”).

But no. He wished for a loud bloody duck whilst singing “Here lives a wealthy man.” You’re not wealthy, you’re an idiot. What would his neighbours have thought? “Why didn’t he spend the money on prostitutes made of solid gold?”

 

I didn’t mean to get into that. What I want to talk about is how great it would be if I was rich. This came up, because I was browsing through the shopping website, Play looking at some film memorabilia saw this little piece.

Giger’s Alien.

I love Alien and Aliens, and I even like Alien 3 (won’t mention the fourth one). I’d love to have Giger’s Alien on my desk, but I couldn’t do that with the one above as it is life-sized!  7′8” it is, and a wallet busting £5799.99 to boot!  Check it out:  Alien I can’t see why anyone would buy this unless they were either really rich or really stupid. There’s a customer review which states “Would look good in any horror fans collection of memorabilia.” I should bloody hope so. For six grand I’d expect it to hunt down and destroy my enemies (of which there are many) and then seek out prostitutes made of solid gold and rid them of their STIs. If you weren’t minted you really would have to be stupid to buy it. I was hoping for a review which said. “After losing all my money in the Farepack Christmas Hamper Scheme, I decided to push the boat out this Christmas and invest in the “Lifesize Scale Alien Xenomorph Statue” to impress the kids. I am now selling my “Lifesize Scale Alien Xenomorph Statue” as my three loan sharks have the audacity to charge interest on the monies owed to them. Still, this would look good in any horror fans collection of memorabilia.”

Where was I? This blog is a bit like Ronnie Corbett’s stories when he sits on the chair, tells a long winded tale and then hits you with a terrible punchline and you yearn for Ronnie Barker to come back on.  

“Sorry” was shit .

There’s no Ronnie Barker here, folks. Sorry, just more of me rambling about prostitutes made of gold.

I haven’t blogged in ages, actually, as I have been busy writing the sequel to The Great Right Hope. I’ve now finished the first draft of the second book of The Sid Tillsley Chronicles, ”A Fistful of Rubbers,” and that’s why my imagination is running riot. Back to reality. Being rich.  Wouldn’t it be great. I was chatting to a friend today about what I’d do if I was truly rich. I mean rich, not all that “oh, I’m rich because of my loved ones,” bollocks. No, I mean prostitutes made of solid gold, rich.

If I were rich…

I’d hire Face (aka Dirk Benedict) from the A-Team to sit in my front room, and then when I had friends over, I’d pay a dude dressed as Cylon to walk through my front room so that Face could recreate his famous point at the start of the A-Team intro. I love that shit.

I’d buy Manchester United, sack Alex Ferguson and then put my old man in charge and watch the club implode. I remember being a young goal keeper and being told. “Don’t close the angle. it’s easier to dive forwards, than backwards, so stay on the back post and then the striker can only kick it in one place.”  My football career didn’t last long. He doesn’t believe in any defensive walls for free kicks. Being Norfolk born and bred, I can’t imagine Evra would get a game, either.

I’d pay a man to watch all forty-two episodes of Sorry, back-to-back, non-stop, for a year just to see what happened to him.

I’d pay a scientist (a real one) to invent and breed Ewoks, and then I’d test cosmetics on them as a punishment for ruining “Return of the Jedi.”

 

I’d shut every plastic and chrome bar in the country and reinvest in Great British pubs.

I’d remake Highlander 2.

I’d organise a Battle Royale, the likes of which, the world has never seen. I’d offer a billion pounds and a penis enlargement to the winner of this fight to the death, man versus man, epic bout of brutality, extravaganza. I’d send invites to Hulk Hogan, Crocodile Dundee, Steven Segal, Chuck Norris, Grant from Eastenders, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Mike Tyson, Dolph Lundgren, Carl Weathers and Gary Busey. And then, I’d send armed guards to collect Andy Murray, Jeremy Kyle and the prick down my gym who doesn’t put the weights back and then I’d let battle commence. I’d pay that bloke who shouts”LET’S GET READY TO RUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEE” to come along and shout “LET’S GET READY TO RUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEE” There isn’t a red-blooded man alive who wouldn’t want to watch that.

I’d remake “Fiddler on the Roof,” and make it real freaky with… you know!

That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’m not a very materialistic person and for me to live the life of my dreams, I’d need billions and billions. Who cares about owning a Ferrari, when you can fuck up an Ewok, real bad. And, in conclusion, isn’t that what being rich is all about?

So, if you were infinitely rich, what would you do?

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Read more | Comments (15) | September 24th, 2009