Let's buy a pier

I've got this mate who won £250,000 in a Sunday Express competition
Spot the Ball
when he was eighteen
and a combination of that luck
as well as a series of shrewd investments
knowing exactly the right time to sell restaurants
has meant he doesn't have to think twice about ordering the King Prawns.

Luckily he likes me because we were friends before he was loaded.
All acne and not good enough trainers
and as 14 year olds we realised we better stick together
as soon as we saw each other play football

and since he won those thousands neither of us have said
how rich you are. I think we both respect me for that
in fact when you told me the news it was me who bought you the Champagne
try working out the logic there.

And when you bought that Italian restaurant I was going out with Emma
and she had been looking for a job for so long
and the two of you always got long and I wondered
whether you had done all of this for her
but when we broke up my God you fired her so quickly
I have never respected anyone so much
you told her she had been rude to customers and did not push
side platters enough. That is where the money is

and at the opening of your next restaurant
thirty miles away but I got a lift with you and your chauffeur
(what a treat to put your dad on the payroll)
we stood there in our tuxedos
and drank whisky even older than the Trinidadian chef you had hired
at the recommendation of a guy you drink with in Soho

and when I read in the paper that Brighton pier was for sale
I though well I've never mentioned money to him before.
But maybe ...