Forget Bitcoin and sink your money into doubloons
Are you bored by your Bitcoins? Looking for a more exciting investment that is also a sure thing? I have some suggestions. This is a very good time to be ahead of the game and get into doubloons. In his latest newsletter to investors, US financial wizard Scurvy J Beard says he believes that there could still be a dozen undiscovered pirate treasure maps in existence. This has stirred tremendous interest in notional doubloons and also in supposed pieces of eight, which are now changing hands at $1,500 each.
Monopoly money is another wise bet. In December 1974 the Wilkinson family, of Devizes, played a game in which a dispute over a hotel on Vine Street led to the notorious Great Wilkinson Massacre. A single £100 note from that game recently fetched the equivalent of £280,000 in Tokyo. Get Out of Jail Free cards (in batches of 10) are appreciating by 20 per cent a year.
After a lull of about a century, the groat has begun to attract interest. There was some volatility at first, but now the imaginary groat has achieved parity with the hypothetical widow’s mite. The market is confidently expected to take off in coming months.
I am investing heavily in Saxon hoard futures. I’ve been buying “finds” that may be turned up by a plough or a metal detectorist in years to come. Last week I paid £800,000 for an ornate gold Saxon belt buckle, which may or may not exist. I’m sure I could sell it for a decent profit tomorrow.
In the past couple of months, a craze for mazes has been sweeping across the West Coast of the United States. This has led to the creation of an exciting new kind of hedge fund. A yard of provisional decent yew hedge recently changed hands at a quarter of a million dollars. You can also get a good return on virtual privet.
The idea of “lady-friendly” crisps (with a quieter crunch and in a smaller packet that fits into a handbag) seems to have gone down like a soggy Pringle. However, I am confident that Machos, the crisps marketed as “Just for Blokes”, will be a roaring success.
These crisps will come in holstershaped bags that can be clipped on to the belt of your jeans and are guaranteed to be the noisiest on the market. You can have a choice of sounds when you bite into a Macho – car crash or thunderclap. The texture is that of a really mean pork scratching.
The flavour of the first Machos will be Vindaloo-n-Lager, but other varieties are planned. The company’s scientists are working on a more sophisticated taste, combining Lamborghini exhaust fumes with essence of rugby club changing rooms. Other flavours in the pipeline are barbecued surfboard and arm wrestler’s sweat. For the connoisseur of the noisier crunch, guys will also be able to sample the OK Corral Special, in which every crisp contains a tiny explosive device that makes a decent bang and scatters crumbs over a wide area.
The manufacturers have not forgotten the chap who likes to chuck a dry-roasted peanut into the air and catch it in his mouth. Coming soon: the lightweight peanut that hangs in the air and also produces an enhanced orange stain.
at telegraph.co.uk/ opinion That great authority, Tatler magazine, warns its readers not to use words now considered to be uncool. On the banned list are “quaff”, “hubby”, “shindig” and “basically”.
These must be worrying times for readers. reader What words do they dare use to describe des the cold weather we’ve been having? h Would it be uncool to say “parky” “p or “brass monkeys” and, if they remark that it’s a bit “nippy”, would they find themselves disinvited to the next Tatler shindig? Where do “pe “perishing” and “inclement” and “chilly” “chilly stand on the coolness scale? They must m fret about whether it is OK to say “Cold enough for you?” To be b on the safe side, they should probably pro cut dead anyone who uttered utt the words “Bring back Fah Fahrenheit” or “I don’t call this glo global warming.”
It’s fine for the rest of us; we can moan about the temperature in any way we like. I would suggest, for any worried Tatler reader out there, that your best bet, as you button your Barbour, is to say: “These country houses do tend to be rather draughty.”