Georgie asked me last week-end if I was one of the two lucky lottery winners who won 45.5 million each. 45.5 million squid! Hah! If only! Told her I hadn't been doing the lottery recently as part of my belt-tightening programme. Maybe I'll start again. Mugs' game, but if you don't enter, you don't win.

Like many others, I've been daydreaming about what I'd do with all that dosh. Been a source of unbridled joy during the miserable weather of the last few days (brightened up today though). According to Hunter Davies (author of a book about lottery winners) who appeared on telly last night, most lottery winners' lives aren't changed that much by a lottery win. They merely pay off their debts, have a bit of a holiday, maybe bung a few quid to close family members, perhaps buy a better car and then move up the property ladder a couple of rungs. Apparently they rarely leave their home town, preferring instead to remain with familiar friends and surroundings.

Well, being a proper Toady, I'd do things differently. I've given it a lot of thought, as I said, over the last few days. For a start, unlike the winners who appeared on last night's news spraying champagne in front of the nation, I'd keep my win secret (apart from Georgie, Don and, possibly, sis). Top secret. No publicity whatsoever. Then I'd tell any official lottery financial advisers who came my way (I presume they're on you like a plague of locusts), to get lost. Then, as soon as I possibly could, I'd whisk most (about 25m?) of the filthy lucre out of the UK, well away from British bankers, convert it into euros and plonk it straight into some Swiss bank account. At this point I wouldn't be surprised if some faceless governmental representative intervened in an attempt to stop the money going out of the country - he'd probably threaten to leak the story to the press and I'd probably have to take legal advice. The whole thing could suddenly become a nightmare.

If, and it's a big 'IF', I managed to keep things quiet, like other winners, I'd dish out dosh to members of my tribe according to a combination of their needs and how much I liked them (I'd try to be as fair as possible) on the strict understanding that they were sworn to absolute secrecy. Stopping people blabbering would of course be tricky, but it's entirely necessary to avoid any jealousy or feuding - I imagine this is one of many instances where money can cause problems instead of solving them.

See how complicated a big lottery win can become if you really think about it?

Now to the fun part. Here Toady would have to okay a few things first with his other half (what's mine is hers) before letting rip with a spending spree to end all spending sprees. If permitted by Captain Sensible, here's exactly what I'd do...

Cars and bikes first (surprise, surprise)...

Get new dogwagon. This would be a Mercedes 300 TE. Production stopped about twenty years ago but it remains the greatest estate car of all time. Bit thirsty though, but no problem for us millionaires. Spotted a good 'un (see photo below) - left hand drive (lhd), 80,000 miles, recently imported to the UK from Germany and up for grabs at about three grand. I'd snap it up, get a Merc specialist to make it better than new, have it delivered and get someone to arrange its registration in France. And while I'm at it, I'd look out for a good Citroen 'traction' light fifteen. Always fancied one.
MercCitroen

Next, do up my VW mk.2 Golf GTi 16v (best car ever) and VW camper which I'd keep for sentimental reasons. And I'd probably keep the existing Citroen ZX dogwagon too 'cos I'd hate to get the Merc muddy, which rather defeats the purpose of buying it in the first place. Then I'd buy a proper car. Nothing fancy like a new Ferrari or Rolls Royce; just a simple, second-hand Porsche 911 SC (again, best car ever - had one a few years back). Spotted a good 'un on eBay (see below): white, lhd, recently imported from California (rust-free and without that vulgar, aerodynamic 'tray' on the back), low mileage and just 14k smackers. Bargain. Perfect as an everyday runaround in France. If I had the money now, I'd buy it anyway, but I ain't, so I can't; rats. Then, for use in the UK (more about that later), I'd buy another second-hand 911 Porker. Yes, second-hand (old habits die hard and new Porkers are oh so terribly 'bling'). This rather fine specimen (the green one) is a bit more modern than the SC and it's only(!) about 26 grand.
Porsche 17.5kPorsche 26k

Right, now bikes. Given this a whole heap of thought. For a start, I'd keep my old banger of a BMW at battle stations in France 'cos I like it and it's comfy for Georgie. Rather surprisingly, I wouldn't fill my garages (the garages I haven't yet mentioned) with an array of Japanese and Italian exotica, mainly because, in next to no time, I'd either lose my driving licence or life. Or both. Anyway, Fireblades and Ducatis: been there, done that. In line with my somewhat tight-fisted approach to cars, I'd buy just three bikes - the latest KTM 990 Adventure (for fun), the latest Harley Davidson Fatboy (for cruising) and a classic 1977 500cc Velocette 'Thruxton' (for drooling over and polishing). And I might buy a Vincent (to discover what all the fuss is about) and an MZ (to remind me of the good old days when I was permanently skint). I know I'd be tempted to spend millions on bikes but I'd just have to learn that it's better to appreciate what one has rather than lust after every new superbike that gets launched. That's gonna be difficult.
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Now, houses...

I'd finish off doing up my/our current French abode. Nothing too fancy - original character to be retained. And I'd also get 'the barn' and dilapidated cottage renovated. But I wouldn't sell 'em. Nor would I live in them, although I can imagine using 'the barn' as my main arty-farty painting studio, so maybe I would live there at certain times - I still have that dream of idyllic bliss, splendid isolation, far from the madding crowd. So what to do with the current abode? Well, after careful consideration, I think it would be a great idea to retain ownership but pass the everyday running of the house over to a 'committee' of younger tribe members for use as a holiday home. That way, they could all learn the joys of living in the French backwoods, have cheap holidays, learn more about each other (many of them have never even met) and thereby create more of a family feel, even though they may not be related. If this plan failed miserably, then maybe it might be better to give the house to the local community for use in cases of homelessness or other social disasters (I'm sure the mayor would sort that out).

Right, that done, I'd find a 'main' French home (yes, I'm well happy living in France). But where? Well, I've always fancied the Dordogne region but it's now a bit too British and touristy for my liking. However, I'm still a big fan of the adjacent Lot region so I started searching there. Discovered this fab pile right on the river's edge. Would suit me perfectly; retains original charm and features, loads of space for cars and bikes, acres of land for dogs, etc., and, at just 2.3 million euros (about 2m quid), not too pricey. Would, of course, have to get 'er indoors' permission - if she didn't fancy it, I'd look for somewhere else (needless to say, this applies to all my prospective house purchases).
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Next, a holiday home. Forget the Bahamas or the Maldives etc. - stay in hotels instead. No, what's really required is a little place a bit closer to home (i.e. France), so it's easily accessible. Maybe somewhere in the south of France. Hmm, maybe not. Too poncy. So where then?

Well, I have many happy memories of hols in the Greek Islands and Ibiza (before it went trendy) with Georgie, so they're possibilities. A Greek island that's always intrigued me is the tiny isle of Ithaca. Never been there but almost made it when we stayed in Kephalonia. Maybe worth a look. Trouble is, Greece isn't exactly down the road. As I said, we need somewhere closer to home. Maybe Ibiza. But perhaps not - the place has been ruined and, like the south of France, it's far too trendy. However..., there's a tiny island just off Ibiza called Formentera. Been there a few times and simply adored the place. Not too difficult to get to. Drive to Barcelona or Marseille, park up, hop on a boat to Ibiza, then a tiny boat to Formentera, hire a bike or scooter and then simply enjoy the simple delights of a little island that hasn't yet been ruined (at least I don't think it has). Spotted this little hideaway for around 600k euros (approx.). Yup, that'll do.
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Right, next requirement is a London gaff (bet yer boots Georgie will insist on one) and maybe a little (or massive) place in the country to escape to when I get one of my attacks of London claustrophobia.

Hah! This is fun!

P.S. Georgie's just told me that Simon Cowell earns this sum (45 million) annually. Whaaat?!! Find that hard to believe.