You can’t turn on the telly these days without some hippy wailing on about the future of the planet. Chill out. It’ll be all right. Why so negative? As my business coach, Mike Finnigan, taught me: always look adversity in the face and spot an opportunity. They did. You can.
So, rather than turning the lights off and worrying about rising sea levels, I say: embrace the new tomorrow. A mate of mine is planting grapes in Alderley Edge for a future crop of Cheshire Chablis. And, before you ask, it isn’t Charlie Womersley.
I’ve also got this admission document for a new company floating on AIM that is going to make squillions. They make a hand-held nuclear reactor that fits into the socket on your Range Rover’s dashboard. When your idling along the M56 it generates enough electric to fuel Rob Cotton’s sunbed.
Think how much you’d get from it if you plugged it into Tim Knowles’ chopper.
I can’t tell you anymore than that because I’ve been made an "insider" due to one of the directors telling me more than he should have done.
Anyway, enough of that. There seems to be an unhealthy obsession with my social life since I appeared in Hello magazine with Dougie Barrowman at Silverstone. After a bit of property development and motor racing he’s now doing what he does best – investing in companies and making a few quid. Quite rightly he got sick of all the arse kissing that goes with being in corporate finance.
Me and Dougie go way back. Me, him and Tony "Fordy" Ford bought our Aston Martins on the same day back in 1997 to celebrate Labour getting in (honest). Mine was the most expensive, by the way.
Went to some do at the Midland Hotel in Manchester run by a mob called Manchester Pros (not that sort). Only went to hear John "Timmo" Timpson give some well-heeled (ha ha) tips and generally talk cobblers. Ten minutes into the keynote and all he’d talked about was Iraq. I realised it was a posh bloke off the telly instead. Simpson? Timpson? I knew I should have crossed my Ts.
I last went to Liverpool to remind Simon "Eddie" Edwards of Midas Capital about the importance of keeping an eye on my money. Sticking it in a biscuit tin doesn’t get me the compound growth that will fund a healthy retirement, but hopefully "Old Big Ed" knows what he’s doing. At their fifth birthday party I hung about to talk to Lord Wade (no nicknames, chaps, show some respect for a class act) about how the Tories are going to get back in next time. Chewed on a warmed-up spring roll and knocked back the orange juice. Whatever they do with a 1 per cent management fee, they don’t splurge on the catering. Good lads. I like prudence in a fund manager.