How to get filthy rich

Now Dot Com and her cronies have had their digits singed on the Stock Market, the Internet's reputation as an instant money-maker is up the virtual spout. Undaunted, Channel 4 is persisting with the idea that you can conjure up magical profits from the frilly sleeves of cyberspace.

It's launching the E-Millionaire Show. Members of the public will submit their idea for a web business and the best will win £1 million to invest. "We want to find a granny in Huddersfield who's got an idea but not the first clue how to go about it," said the producer, prompting panic-buying of Huddersfield grannies by City investors.

Filth. That's the quickest way to make an Internet fortune. My idea is to launch a site called www.hot&dirty.com, which should attract enough seedy surfers to generate hefty advertising revenue. By the time they realise the site boasts nothing more than pictures of bubbling Icelandic mud geysers, I'll be sipping Manhattans on my Bridlington pedalo.

The Web may have been rumbled as a get-rich-scheme, but armchair entrepreneurs like myself needn't despair. Children are still as gullible as ever, and now they have more money to spend.

Just look at Pokmon. This cheap cartoon series has caused a knee-high gold rush, as children stampede to spend their monthly allowance (once known as pocket money) on the cult.

Pokmon's success is based on two key characteristics: 1) it appears impenetrable and doltish to adult eyes, and 2) it has endless merchandising potential. As a result Tiger Electronics, the Harrogate firm who so thoughtfully brought us Furbies, told the Evening Press on Saturday that Pokmon is "a total phenomenon". Like, wow, man!

Judging by Pokmon, Furbies and the like, to create a kids craze cash-cow you need to jet to Amsterdam, splash out on mind-altering drugs and write down the resulting hallucinations. I wonder if there's a Prince's Trust grant going for that?

As this newspaper's Vice-President of Global Opinions (News-Features Interface), I was frankly shocked to read that some folk are swapping a decent salary for a posh job title. Recruitment agency Office Angels has discovered that bosses are indulging staff with glamorous job descriptions to divert their attention from a thin pay packet.

Fortunately that would never happen in down-to-earth York. Only the other night I was saying this same thing to my mate Jim, the Intoxication Engineer at the Red Flag. Jim was delighted because the pub was looking spotless thanks to the efforts of Gary, his new Director of Refuse Redistribution.

Then who should walk in but Janice, the most efficient Momentum Enforcement Operative ever to don a traffic warden's uniform. She had just slapped a ticket on the float driven by Mick the Dairy Product Doorstep Co-ordinator.

He was none too pleased, but after a restorative beer he admitted to being over-tired. Last night he'd viewed a live art installation and was so taken by one particular Fashion Displacement Executive that he got carried away, and stuck a fifty quid note in her stocking top.

Comedian Jimmy Cricket was due at the York Dungeon today. He was not being held for crimes against elderly gags, but promoting a new tableau.

This is his second visit to York in a matter of weeks. Last month, you may recall, his disaster-prone show at the Barbican Centre was slammed by some paying customers as "the worst, most unprofessional event that we have ever had the misfortune to witness". No doubt they will get a sense of deja vu when they discover the attraction Mr Cricket is here to advertise is called the Pit Of Despair.

If you have any comments you would like to make, contact Chris Titley directly at chris.titley@ycp.co.uk

19/04/00

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.