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Alfie was well-off, loaded, wealthy, privileged; super-rich basically. Lovely, you might think, but the houses, the holidays, the cars, the private jets, the pampering just weren’t giving his life any meaning, you know? He was miserable, there was something missing.
So, Alfie went to live with ‘real’ people on a council estate to ‘find himself’. He didn’t like his neighbours much, but couldn’t really get away from them. He didn’t enjoy waiting for the bus in the rain while the local kids made fun of his clothes because they were different to everyone else’s. He couldn’t get a job and, against his better judgement, started watching daytime telly.
The cheap non-organic food and lack of skiing and diving was playing havoc with Alfie’s skin and making him fat and he became depressed.
At least Alfie had discovered one thing, how it really felt to be miserable.