On Dragon's Den, again
Hello. I am Scaryduck Junior and I am excellent.
Some of you might remember the last time I came here telling of the time me and my rubbish dad went on Dragon's Den and completely failed to diddle them out of any of their cash.
You will be shocked – SHOCKED – to learn that story might have contained slight traces of lie.
However, you might be equally pleased – PLEASED – to learn that the big fat whopper was merely a front to cover for our real, EXCELLENT business idea that we are doing for TV's Dragon's Den.
"What ho, young man!" said one of the suits, in exactly the same tone of voice as last time, probably still thinking I might be a pushover like that Reggae Reggae Sauce man, "What have you got for us today?"
"I have," I said staring them down with my patent Lego Stare-People-Down-o-Matic, "come up with a fool-proof business idea that will make us all MILLIONS."
"CH-Ching!" they all go as I mention the magic word.
"All I need from you," I say, "is ten thousand pounds. Each."
"And what," asked the shifty-looking one who owns Millwall Football Club (and is therefore full of FAIL), "will ten thousand pounds of my childrens' inheritance get me?"
"Nothing much," I reply, because I was brought up to be honest, "Except my old dad won't come round your house and poo through your letterbox."
All five dragons did pretty good impressions of a goldfish at this point. The ugly bird lifted up one cheek and let go with a nervous, cabbage-flavoured perp.
"Ten large. Take it or leave it."
"Crivens! Hoots mon, help ma boab" said the Scotch one, "I'm in."
This time next year, Rodders, we'll be millionaires.