Sunday, 13 April 2008
Why I am a failure
For reasons I can't quite fathom, a colleague of mine was rather nasty to me. What she said amounted to a point-by-point condemnation of my character, concentrating on my lack of wealth. I was rather hurt at the time, but in retrospect I feel I got off rather lightly. She could have pointed out that I am deeply unattractive, about which I could not quibble. She might also have observed that I am at times pretentious and a bit boring. But no - my lack of money was the target to be carpet-bombed. (That's Axminster carpet-bombing, obviously.)
Why don't I care about money? Why don't I have 'aspirations', as the wankers of Noo Labour call being greedy, wanting a big house etc? Well, firstly because the most contemptible people in our society are rich and famous. Secondly, we are all just one of two accidents away from penury, regardless of how clever we think we are. Thirdly, I honestly don't give a toss about money per se. I don't have a mortgage, or a car (admittedly my eyesight is so poor I probably couldn't drive anyway) and have had precisely one foreign holiday, which I didn't really like. On the plus side, I seem to fill my days reasonably efficiently, with work, drinking, reading or indeed sleeping. And the big global credit squeeze going on at the moment? Well, I'm sure it's very, very bad. Terrible, in fact. Now, where's my whisky?