Whose Life

I noticed a competition in the Sunday Independent’s Life magazine last week to win “a once in a lifetime trip to New Zealand.” You don’t know me.

I’m a hedge fund manager, I go on long haul trips at the drop of a hat anytime I like. I could spend the entire summer in Barbados if I fancied it; a holiday in New Zealand means nothing to me.

I left school at fourteen, I’ve barely heard of New Zealand. I have no interest in ever setting foot outside Clondalkin. I’d swap the trip for new kit for our soccer club.

I’ve never had a job, it’s eleven o' clock on a Tuesday morning and I’m on the couch watching Jeremy Kyle in my underpants, drunk. I couldn't be arsed.

Trip of a lifetime? How the fuck would you know?