Harrods must be the Disneyland of mega rich oil-stock-arms-people. Raise your hand if you can shell out 8,000 GBP for a pair of slippers? Mine were 2 GBP from Primark, please and thanks. I’ll stick to that, no matter how wealthy I get in this life.

But in all seriousness, Harrods is a thing to behold. First, it will take you a good 15 minutes to take in the beautiful window displays that are so intricately and artistically designed. You’ll spend another hour in total staring, gob open, at the crown moldings and tile work of the interior of the place. Then you’ll lose the use of your jelly like legs when you spy a few price tags here and there. It really is the height of decadence- but it’s exquisite and it’s motivation enough to make you want to make as much money as you possibly can so that you can feel like you fit in.

I’m not saying I didn’t buy anything. I got a chocolate. It cost me that day’s rent and they didn’t even give me a Harrods bag. Rude.