Right, I’m asking you lot advice for a change. I don’t make mistakes. Well, apart from that dodgy internet dog food business we floated on AIM, tried to buy back, then ended up breaking it up and using the cash shell to reverse in a luxury car hire business this fat lad from Wrexham reckoned he could franchise. It went bust and he legged it with the cash. He was last seen selling watches on the beach at Puerto Banus. We’re all allowed one mistake and I took my eye off the ball.
No, the question a shy and retiring entrepreneur from the right side of Cheshire wants to know is this: should I take the opportunity to raise my profile even more and get my handsome face on the telly? I’ve come close a few times. I did the pilot for Dragon’s Den, took their half baked advice, ignored it, but left the dragons begging me to let them buy into RC Solutions, I’ve had them all after me since. That Theo Paphitis even invited me down to Millwall for some jellied eels and lavish hospitality. Very nice it was too, certainly a different kind of day out from the time I went there with XXXX XXXX and his mates from XXXXXXXXX. What a day. You wouldn’t believe he was a XXXX partner with XXXXXXX now. A bit too violent, even for my liking. (Blanked out on advice of the lawyers).
Anyway, I did screen tests for this Channel 4 thing where I had to hang out with a load of poor people for a bit, give them some advice on how to sort themselves out and chuck a few grand at them. To be fair, the bird from the production company was quite tasty, but I bottled it at the last minute. You know me, I like to give money to charity on the quiet, nothing flash, just a few coins in the right places. Much as the old ego said – “Roger, do it, Roger do it,” just as it does every time I send my bank in Guernsey a few more millions, the head said “Don’t”. There are too many bodies buried out there. It could have ended up costing me ten million squids. Easy.
Now I’ve been asked by ITN Productions if I’d like to be profiled for a series called Britain’s Richest Men on the Discovery Channel, which will be watched by pretty much nobody, but that won’t matter to the missus. She’ll be happy enough inviting them into our lovely home, getting our interior designer Dawn Ward to blather on about how much she spent and what great taste she’s got, and all that sort of caper. Then just as Mrs C did when Cheshire Life came round, when she bought a copy for all 246 of her closest personal friends, it has a limited view. She’s already planning on a getting it on DVD and having a party at our place. I think she’s already booked Charlie Wolmersley to supply the pinot grigio. None of the people that matter to me will be any the wiser.
Does it sound like a plan?