It’s Me.

And I’m not talking about spiritual fulfilment or happiness or inner peace or any of that tree-hugging stuff.  I’m talking about money.

I say this because I cannot think of a single material thing I want, let alone need.

But let me put this into some context for you.

Yes, I have my own house, a car, caravan, take holidays when I want etc.  But this is only a fraction of my “proof”.  The real test I establish by the existence of a threshold, which is this –

Every few weeks Our Gert has a woman come round to trim her muff.

So think about that.

What would you spend your hard-earned brass on before parting with money for someone to snip away at your wife’s minge?  The answer, I suspect, is –

Every other material thing you could conceivably want.

Now think about this.  Set aside the extravagant decadence of this for a moment. 

“EVERY FEW WEEKS”!

I only mow my lawn every few weeks.

I grew my muff 50 years ago and, like a shag-pile carpet, it’s stayed the same length ever since.

Then consider the Muff Woman.  She turns up dressed like a nurse so the whole transaction has a professional and clinical veneer about it designed to make parting with your brass easier, like she’s undergone years of training to equip her to plough through Our Gert’s wires.

It takes her about ¾ of an hour, so I’d guess she could have 8 appointments in a day.  So what does she do with all that muff?  Does she have a sideline stuffing cushions?

Of course, all of this is conjecture.  I don’t have any empirical evidence of “before” and “after” as Our Gert keeps her slot securely to herself these days.