I don't know what debauched activities you proles do to unwind, but after a long day foxhunting on the estate, I like to drink Dom Perignon by the pint and stub out cigars on the soles of my indentured servants. If I'm feeling particularly saucy, I'll get a pious pageboy to wipe my pomerian's arse with £50 notes while a beautiful debutante recites Atlas Shrugged to me.

Failing that, I'll simply buy something that's worth the GDP of any small country I've had the displeasure of visiting. Like France. For instance, I'm dead-set on purchasing this Fender Faberge Egg guitar. If I play my cards right, I'll claim it as a tax write-off.

If 'you too' are better than everyone, learn more about the guitar here.