
A letter arrives to my work address asking: “Have you ever won a large cash prize before, Mr Ottewell?”
An intriguing question. The answer is no.
“Mr Ottewell,” it continues, “this is the final notice you will receive regarding the £50,000 cash prize. I advise you to register your claim now. Please reply right away!”
At this point I notice the letter is addressed to “CJ Ottewell”, but really, does it matter? Who cares about initials when there is a large cash prize at stake?
Anyway, the letter contains a CLAIM LABEL with a CLAIM NUMBER which (in bold letters) “entitles the bearer to the sum of £50,000″ if (in not-so-bold letters) “the claim number above match[es] that pre-selected as the winner of the £50,000 PRIZE DRAW”.
My name, give or take an initial or two, then appears on an important-looking table called the “SUMMARISED PRIZE DRAW STATEMENT REPORT”. Next to the figure £50,000. And the words “TO BE CLAIMED”.
Just above me is Mrs Kirby-Colclough, who has already been PAID her LARGE CASH PRIZE of £15,000. Below is Mr Lewis, who had been PAID his LARGE CASH PRIZE of £3,000.
(In brackets, a note next to the table reads: “Abbreviated list of prizes paid or unpaid with actual and potential winners.” I am far too rich to care what the hell this is supposed to mean.)
So I’m rich. And do you know what the really great thing is about this astonishing piece of good fortune? I also get the chance to order a selection of goods from the prize company’s catalogue. These include “real leather shoes” offering “real comfort”, a satin slip “for everyday wear”, and a stick that becomes a seat (”One second a stick, the next a seat!”)
On top of all that, I also get this “brilliant” porcelain clock (rrp £12.99) ABSOLUTELY FREE. Because rich people need to know the time, too.

The clock, my mysterious benefactors assure me, will “complement any room in [my] house”. It has “easy to read Arabic numerals” and is “decorated with exquisite birds”. It does not come with a battery, but let’s face it: with my LARGE CASH PRIZE I can buy thousands of the things.
Farewell, then, dear reader. The next time you see me I will be on a beach in the Bahamas, sipping champagne cocktails, clutching an exquisite porcelain bird clock and squatting on my handy stick/seat.