Come to think about it, he might be right about the rich having no taste.
When I was broke, I used to like Chekhov, Mahler and Picasso. But since I've made a few quid, I find myself increasingly drawn to Die Hard, Justin Bieber and pictures of kittens peeking out of battered hats. Perhaps I should just give it all away so that I can enjoy the National Portrait Gallery again.


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