WORDS: ED DONNELL
						One day when the world wakes up and I finally get the financial rewards I deserve, I vow to be the most eccentric billionaire EVER. There must be hundreds of people living in London alone who wear tissue boxes on their feet, who hasn't? But Howard Hughes was a billionaire, he could have afforded slippers made out of pure gold.
If I was a billionaire I'd get pictures published in the tabloids of me hobbling around my mansion, feet cut to ribbons, wearing a pair of slippers made from clusters of diamonds. I can imagine the readers, poor people with faces like smacked arses, kissing their teeth and slowly shaking their heads. How the other half live eh?
		Not having to work again would open up time enough to pursue my lifelong quest for the perfect piece of cake. Once a week I would be driven to my huge fortified complex in the middle of the countryside, not unlike the Laboratioire Garnier I imagine. Wearing a white coat and carrying a clip board, I stroll around while my thousands of employees quietly mix buttercream and present me with samples of new sponge textures.
Monuments to my decadence could be seen in every major city. I'd buy a piece of prime real estate, somewhere in the West End, or Manhatten or downtown Tokyo, and erect lifesize versions of a Fisher Price garage. This primary coloured monster would only have room for three cars, but would have the most elaborate system of lifts and ramps for getting cars in and out.
Wise Owl Gary Hume 1995 Ed Donnell I'm 32. I wish I could play the piano and do karate. I suppose I could take lessons but hey, life's too short. After two terrible marriages and a spate of disastous relationships with older, hairy men, I now find myself attracted to hip, riot grrl type chicks. So if you're looking for a fella who's supportive in real life, yet masterful in bed (as long as your definition of "supportive" doesn't involve cash or heavy lifting, and your idea of "masterful in bed" is me always having the remote control), you can contact me at amp@ampnet.co.uk. Go on, you know you want it. I mean want to. Want TO. go to... home femorabilia sleaze chazzing rock'n'roll about contribute press contact diary weblog				I want money to waste. I want money to burn. I want to buy a painting by Gary Hume or one of those other lucky artists, invite them round for dinner, answer the door wearing slippers made out of their paintings then change back into my diamond slippers to kick their arses. The phrase living "within one's means" makes me feel physically sick. Not only is it impossible but boring too. So, if you were a billionaire what would you blow the lot on? Send in your ideas. The prize is the chance that maybe, just maybe a bona-fide eccentric billionaire will read this and say, "I like your style kid, have the lot!" Name: E-mail: if i was an eccentric billionaire, i would:

NAUGHTY STUFF. DIRTY STUFF. FUN STUFF. IT'S ALL HERE. A Eunuch - the Ideal Man? The Ugly Guy Drugs are Nice The Sleaziest Thing I Have Ever Done... In a recent survey, 50% of women under 25 admitted they had thrown up whilst on a night bus. Not that that's anything to be proud of, mind. Not at all.