Ryan Bigg

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The Richest

23 May 2011

Long, long ago in this very galaxy I used to write fiction. If you dig long enough and hard enough on the internet you'll find it. I won't link to it here because, to be honest, I am embarrassed by it for no particular reason. Some said it was good, but I think they were just being kind.

On the last day of Railsconf, a group of us went out to dinner. Somehow, the topic of "The Richest Man Alive" came up and basically the entire evening was spent coming up with hilarious fictional scenarios and repeating the best of them where the Rich guy is asked by his butler "Sherry?" to which he replies "Rather!", in stereotypical rich-guy fashion.

We had some spare time at the airport on Friday morning and I had this scenario that kept playing in my head and getting more intricate and so I wrote it down on a notepad I keep in my bag with the intention of posting it somewhere on the internet. Little did I know then that I would come up with the brilliant idea of posting it on my main blog. This isn't my idea, but rather an inspired idea from the awesome conversation we had Thursday night. Thanks guys, you know who you are.

So without further ado, I introduce you to The Richest Man Alive:

Markus, the cleaner for Lord Nelson's third pool, has just been found floating dead in the pool he was supposed to be cleaning.

Lord Nelson sits in his favourite chair by the fire that his stereotypically named butler, Alfred, has beautifully crafted. The butler stands to the right of the chair, dressed immaculately as can be expected by butlers. They discuss the death of Markus.

"Sherry?", Alfred asked.

"Rather.", Lord Nelson replies with his thick British-monarch-but-not accent.

Alfred pours a glass of sherry and hands it to Lord Nelson, who then sips it.

"It's quite atrocious, really.", Lord Nelson says.

"The sherry?", Alfred asks, like a dog who's being told off by his owner. "My deepest..."

"No no, Alfred, about the third pool. The cleaning lad floating in it?"

"Quite, sir."

"When did they find him?"

"Yesterday afternoon, while you were golfing on the eastern course, sir."

"Tragic, really. We'll never get the smell out."

"I will endeavour, sir."

"That would be grand, Alfred. Please do see to his arrangements I believe he was in the 4th bedroom on the 5th floor."

"Yes sir, you are correct. I will attend to those right away, sir."

"Where the devil do we find one as ... talented as Markus?"

"I do not have a clue sir, although I suspect we may be able to find one and bring him in shortly."

"I am awfully fond of that idea, Alfred, but do you not remember the fuss Markus put up for the first week?"

"Quite, sir. He complained quite emotionally about his treatment by Boris."

"Yes, Alfred.", Lord Nelson replies, sipping his expensive sherry.

"Being pulled off the street and pushed into a limousine would do do that though."

"I agree, but only in part. Boris does need to learn 'the soft touch'"

"Rather, sir. I remember my ... abduction, fondly."

"Money fills that void, Alfred."

"Quite, sir. Quite. Margaret is exceptionally glad to receive your annual letters informing her of my continued survival and exceptional service."


"How should I deal with this, sir?"


"The body, in the third pool?"

"Ahh, yes. Get Boris to remove it. I hear he has ... experience with these matters."

"KGB, sir."

"Yes, yes. Good lad. Do find a replacement, Alfred."

"For Boris?", Alfred asks hopefully.

"No, not yet. Just the pool boy. God rest his soul."

"Will that be all sir?"

"Yes, Alfred."

"Thank you sir, I will deal with these matters right away."

Alfred leaves the room, while Lord Nelson finishes his sherry.

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