Hello, my name is Fred De Whip and i am here today to tell you all about how i made my fortune. Now to start with i want to make on thing very clear. Most people you read about will tell you about their paper fortune and how much they are worth.
Not me.
My fortune is a little unconventional but nontheless very valuable. My fortune is measured in cubic litres.
Of Ice cream.
Yes, you see, you were right. I am Fred De Whip the greatest producer of ice cream Saturn has ever known. But for those of you who don't know me, this is my story.
I was born in Clacton in 1948, a wee slip of a lad who never did good at school and was always in trouble with his parents. Actually i was only ever in trouble with Mum, my dad was never about, just Uncle Mike who gave mum her afternoon massage in the outside privvy every second tuesday of the month.
Anyway i left school as soon as i could to seek my fortune in the big wide world of Southend-on-Sea. Oh my naivety as i headed for the bright lights of the city! I thought i would be back home in six months with my bag of yankee gold and boots big enough to give Uncle Mike a good kicking and reclaim the outside privvy that was rightfully mine.
Anyway, suffice to say Southend was a harsh lesson in the realities of life. There i was, only twelve years old, and already shacked up with the fortune teller from the local fair. I would't have minded so much but her name was Brian.
Soon after Brian and i got together (actually it was straight after our first night of passion) i decided to head for Tilbury on the Thames and stow away aboard an ocean liner bound for America, land of Dreams.
And homicidal Maniacs.
Well as i remember the plan was going swimmingly until i hit a small hitch.
Sydney.
Yep, that's right folks my luxury ocean liner that i had stowed away on was actually bound for Australia, the land of the convict instead of America, land of the Free. See what happens when you don't learn to read at school!
But Sydney turned out to be just what i needed as it was here that i learnt about the top secret Australian government plan to put men into space. Well, not so much a ma, more sort of one of their expendable Aboriginal types, this was the fruition of the grand 'white Australia' policy. Oh doesn't it make you proud of our darling little colony, planning such an afventure using only tin foil, Ayres rock and a 'wog. Blue Peter couldn't have done it better.
In order to be a part of this mission that i instinctively knew would shape my future i knew i needed two things. Face paint and a trade.
Oh no they weren't going to send a useless abbo out into the great beyond. They'd have to be trained in carpentry or some other uselful space craft.
And this is where i first discovered the beauty of ice cream making.
Six months later and i was on my way to Saturn. I didn't know this at the time of course, we'd all been told we were just going on a little trip a couple of time round he planet. The moon and back absolute tops and that they had a perfectly good way of landing us safely on our return.
hum...
Three years and a lot of toothpaste later, we hit something.
It turned out to be Saturn and it was bloody hard.
At least it felt hard when we crashed into it a three times the speed of light in our 'abbo's magic' powered spacecraft. You can't beat herbal medicines for giving you that extra boost.
Quick as a flash and soon as my two broken legs had healed i was out and about exploring our new home. We had received the news that we were now on Saturn from the first visitors we had over for afternoon tea on the first Wednesday after we crashed landed. They were quite a civilised lot, quite friendly once you'd bashed them over the head a few times with a thermos of hot coffe. The only thing about them was that they were only 3ft tall and blue in colour. My travelling companions and they seemed to get on quite well, but i soon whipped of my face paint and assumed complete command of them as the only white human on the whole planet as far as i could tell.
Ever quick to see an oppourtunity the wogs started to manufacture exquisite reproduction Edwardian furniture to sell to the locals of Saturn. They quickly established a booming trade as it seemed none of the 'blues', as we called them, had ever seen a decently crafted chest of drawers before. They soon found them much more useful than the rudimentary plastic and carbon fibre structures they seemed to use. You really can't beat a good solid bit of Dutch Elm.
Anyway 1965 passed peacefully enough annd i ruled without protest or challenge and good fun was had by all, the weather was nice and my tan was looking goodish for most of the year.
Anyway it was whilst holidaying in my villa by the dead sea of Saturn that year (and this really is a dead sea, none of your poncy water stuff like on earth) that i remembered my trade. Once i returned to my new Capital City of Whipopia i sent for the remains of out spacecraft and dug out my ice cream making kit. Soon i was spending many a happy hout manufacturing the first Mint Choc Chip ice cream ever seen on Saturn.
Before long it became apparent to me that my real strength lay, not in ruling an entire planet, but in spreding the gospel of ice cream.
Before long the entire planet was dotted with outlets of my ice cream parlour franchise. I was a success....
If you are reading this letter you have managed to travel to Saturn in my wake. I have died since i wrote this letter although the exact date was not available when this went to print.
Give my love to Brian and make sure you try the Maple, Pineapple and Molten Lava flavoured ice cream, i'm really proud of it!