Lighten Up: Dear Elon, any chance of a loan?
My focus was on the wrong valley, writes Denis. It should have been on Silicon Valley, and not the Lee Valley.
My dearest Elon.
Firstly, can I congratulate you on becoming a 'Trillionaire!' Wow!
Although I know now that this trillionaire business was only short-lived. But sure, isn't it better to be a trillionaire for five seconds, rather than having an overdraft for 20 years?
Anyhow, trillionaire or not, you are still a very wealthy man, and fair play to you. I myself have been trying to become a trillionaire for many years, but alas, circumstances have prevailed against it.
With regards to money, I have failed miserably. Farming clearly wasn't the way to go. My focus was on the wrong valley. It should have been on Silicon Valley, and not the Lee Valley.
I backed the wrong horse Elon. I should have been staring into computers and not coccidiosis. Anyhow, fair play to you, my wealthy pal, and more power to your elbow.
And while, Elon, there may be a substantial difference between us, with regards to our respective bank balances, I do feel we share some common ground.
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Namely, we are both driven men. You are driven to reach the moon and the stars, and I'm being driven to Macroom mart every Saturday morning.
Long story short, my jeep is up on blocks; it has been for some time. And it's only through the kindness of family and neighbours that I manage to get anywhere.
My thumb is worn out from encouraging a passing vehicle to stop. What I'm really trying to say here Elon, is that I need 'a dig out'.
And not just to get my jeep back on the road, but to gear up entirely.
The way I see it, there would be little point in putting money into my jeep now, when, through your generosity, I could just as easily be driving around the narrow roads of Kilmichael in a flashy new Mercedes-Benz.
My dearest Elon, just for a change, I would love to be known around these parts as Mr Mercedes, rather than Mr Auld Lehane. Mr Mercedes has a better ring to it.
And with you being a trillionaire, or a billionaire, or whatever the heck you are now, I've little doubt that you could well afford to pay for my merc up front, or over the long finger if you prefer.
So long as I get a big car, a big gas guzzler, I couldn't care less.
It must be very exciting, all the same, to be so wealthy. To have all the money in the world must make a man feel very free and easy.
Imagine dining out on chips and burgers every night and not having to check your bank balance before heading to Billies, Dinos, Connie's or Greg's.
Fair play to you Elon, you must sleep soundly every night, with a fine belly full of the very best. And staying on the subject of sleeping soundly, the auld house here too could do with a trillionaire cash injection.
A few fresh slates wouldn't go amiss, and a couple of new sheets of zinc on the out-houses would also be greatly welcome. So again, Elon, an auld dig out here would be most appreciated.
And finally, we must look at livestock, for this is where the big money is. Elon, the only fellows who can afford bullocks nowadays are trillionaires. And that's a fact.
So, I would very much appreciate it if you could throw me your cheque book for the afternoon, so that I could buy a few handy stores without giving myself a heart attack.
For while I know all the tricks of the farming trade, alas, the trick of making money out of cattle is the one trick that eludes me.
Anyhow, Elon, I won't keep you any longer; you probably need to get back to counting your loose change.
I'll go for now, but I look forward to hearing from you in the near future with regards to my struggles and my suggestions for investment opportunities on this farm of mine out here in the wilds of Kilmichael.
Your faithful friend in farming,
Auld Lehane
