Six places I've been recognised naked, by Martin Lewis CBE

BEING Britain’s leading money saving expert isn’t easy, especially when you’re always getting recognised while stark bollock naked. It’s happened six times: 

Locked out of my hotel room

There’s always someone who hasn’t collected their newspaper at 6am, so you can sneak out, peruse the headlines and replace it none the wiser. I did just this in the July heatwave, got disorientated, long and short of it I’m in the corridor nude with nothing but a Daily Express and an economics student walks past. ‘Morning Martin,’ he says.

On a mate’s stag do

Went to a stag do in Munich and rubbed some of the lads up the wrong way by converting Euros to sterling. I thought they’d want to know the cost. Well, normally it’s the stag who gets stripped and tied to a lamppost, but this time it was me. And who comes along but a bunch of pensioners who never miss Good Morning Britain. 

In the shower at the leisure centre

Showering costs money with gas so high, so I perform my ablutions down the leisure centre. The full lather and soap. I’ve paid for it. But when I got accosted, still midway through a vigorous scrub, I had to explain why a current account’s a better bet than a cash ISA for ten minutes, cock out. I used up a whole hotel soap.

Tackling a burglar at 3am

I’m not short of cash myself, after a lifetime of shrewd decision-making, but I won’t let that make me a target. So when burglars broke in I tooled up and gave chase, fully nude because that’s how I sleep. I cornered one who recognised me and asked whether he should commit to a ten-year mortgage. Ran through options until the rozzers arrived.

Relaxing in a sauna

I like to get away, and I find Finland very relaxing because it’s cheaper than Norway. There, in a spa in the wilderness, I could sit in the buff and sweat my cares away unmonitored. Until I hear ‘fancy seeing you here!’, open my eyes and it’s only Angela fucking Rippon. What are the chances?

During my medical

Looking after your health is looking after your money. I get a full medical every year, but in a supreme piece of irony just as the GP was holding my gonads and asking me to cough, he suffered a massive heart attack. My balls were in his death grip. I shuffled, naked and carrying his body, to reception where ambulances, the police and fire crews were called. It took eight hours to free me. I sent a large bouquet to his funeral.

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Six ways to look like a twat in… a Christmas jumper

CHRISTMAS jumpers are the height of anti-fashion, but have you wrung every twattish drop from yours or is a rival the bellend of the Yuletide ball? 

Wear it to the office

Bring the enforced fun to your workforce with a Christmas jumper over your suit and tie. Everyone will be wincing while they work as you wank about the place threating written warnings with a grinning snowman across your chest. Extra points if your anti-style statement has the Grinch on!

Glitter like the moonlight snow

Sequins? Big fuzzy reindeer noses? Baubles in the nipple area? Actual lights? Anything that would spark ridicule in normal clothing? Perfect for the season. These adornments barely last one outing, fuck the environment hard, are made in conditions of slavery and leave a trail of tacky debris in your wake for a minimum-wager to clean up. So very Christmas.

Incorporate pop culture

There’s no need to abandon buttonholing others about your fixations just because it’s Christmas! A snowflake border around Darth Vader’s portrait, flanked by screaming TIE fighters, allows you to be as aggravatingly dull as any other time of year! Let’s force your likes through the corporate Christmas meat-grinder and call it fun!

Make it your personality

Nothing to say? Of no interest to anyone? No-one really sure if you were there? Turn that around by making Christmas your thing, and looping every chat back to your loopy fashion choice. ‘It’s me! With the tune-playing jumper!’ you’ll remind everyone for the next 11 months.

Pair it with a hat

The jumper alone makes it blaringly obvious you’ve got festive fever, so why not overdo it? Add a Santa hat, foam antlers and make them light up for the double denim of the season. Simply screams ‘I don’t understand a fucking thing about this world! I will die alone!’

Make it part of your regular wardrobe

All Christmas jumpers lean into irony now, so what better meta-commentary on the risible excess of the festive period than wearing the bastard year-round? Imagine being regarded in summer with the same withering gaze as those gibbering pricks wearing shorts in winter! They’re looking at you! You’ve won!