I was the greatest forger the world had ever seen. There wasn’t a banknote that I couldn’t duplicate. Name a currency and I’ve forged it, even that stupid Greek one.

In the late 90s my £20 notes were so perfect that they were costing me over £30 to make. This was no good. An idea came to me. I hadn’t gone into forgery to lose money. I was in it to make money (I hope you get the clever double meaning there, it took me all night.) I came up with a plan to sell my expensive £20 notes to rich people for £40 each. They were the ultimate luxury item.

“Reassuringly expensive” I told them. “What better way to show your superior wealth than to pay twice as much for something whilst appearing to only pay the normal price?”

“But how will anybody know?” they’d all ask.

“Just tell them” I said. “Go to a restaurant; order a £40 meal and when the bill comes tell the waiter that you’re paying with rich man £20 notes, so you’re actually spending £80, when you could easily pay with normal money and leave a £40 tip and be no worse off, but you won’t, because you’re a better man.”

I’d like to say that I got rich off this scheme, but sadly I won the lottery instead.

Duncan, Newcastle.

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