Massive house in Hampstead.

On Monday I spent most of the day filming in a four storey house in Hampstead. I haven't spent much time in rich people's houses in the past as all of my friends are scum and during my seven year affair with Princess Anne we usually spent the night at my gaff. The Hampstead mansion was in one sense very impressive. For the price of a one bedroomed flat in Hampstead you could pay the wages of Canada's civil service for 5 years so with a four storey house you could probably get China's navy. I regularly checked in cupboards for gold bullion.

In another sense it was a bit of a shit hole. Well, not a shit hole, but if it was on MTV Cribs I don't think I'd like the person. All the walls were white and adorned with modern, no doubt expensive art that looked like it had actually come from Ikea. There were plenty of book shelves impressively stocked with hard back copies of every single book that has been recommended by a broad sheet newspaper in the last ten years. There wasn't one book that could be described in any way as embarrassing. That to me is suspicious and embarrassing in itself. I have to say the books looked remarkably untouched. Perhaps there was a draw somewhere filled with well thumbed autobiographies and Coleen Nolan's novel.

The bedroom was where, for me, the dream house properly crumbled. It was, of course, massive and en suite. There were two sinks in the same area as the bed. Fine. There is nothing wrong with seeing someone brush their teeth. Then there was a bath hidden by a little wall that didn't extend across the whole room. Fine. I don't mind hearing someone slosh about whilst I pretend to read a hard back on Russian gulags. But then there was a toilet. Not fine. You couldn't see the toilet but there was nothing to stop you hearing or smelling everything that was done there. I'm no prude. I like water sports as much as the next perv but I do not want to wake up to the smell of shit. How must it feel to have spent £8 million on the house of your dreams only to wake up to the smell of your partner's morning dump?

This is the problem. The wrong people have all the money. Give it to me please. Give it to me.