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As both Cecil Rhodes and Rudyard Kipling said (simultaneously) “To be born English is to win first in the lottery of life”. Unfortunately in the many years of my wheelings and indeed dealings I have never, I repeat never come across a lottery called the lottery of life. In deference to its non-existence I decided to make an investment, using Societal funds, in the national lottery on the hope that having already been born English the winning of the first prize (henceforth jackpot) would be a shoo in. I made the transaction with purveyor of dreams and it was explained to me that the jackpot was a clean £4 million. I personally have no concept of how much this actually is, The President told me that it could secure our debts for another year, The Secretary explained that with these resources his wildest dreams could be possible (I suspect that this has something to do with Casio watches), the Intern was nonplussed due to his lack of consciousness at the time and The Belgian merely smiled in a rather disturbing manner. I therefore did the only thing that any sensible human being could dream of doing, I ate the lottery ticket to keep it safe from these perpetual money grabbing bastards. It is generally understood that my fiscal talents are beyond reproach and to this end I reviewed the accounts: 13,983,815:1 obviously do not apply to an Englishman. As I was making this assessment the Intern woke from his “slumber” and informed me that some meddling fools are trying to increase the cost of alcohol in an attempt to force us to drink less. NEVER!!!! It suddenly seemed that the windfall of the lottery had only one purpose left: To fund the societal public house visitations. That Saturday evening I settled down outside the local television emporium with ticket in hand (it had safely passed through my system in record time(18Hrs)). Clearly having been born in England was not enough. I suspect that The Belgian may have been a hindrance given it was the whole of the societal funds that paid for the ticket. It was then that the Secretary informed me that Mother was French. I will not forget this treachery! quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.