I don’t need knowledge, cos I’ve got fortune and fame

Perhaps it’s a world filled with grande skinny double shot vanilla lattes or a world inspired by technology, but we certainly seem to like everything to be instantaneous these days. Anyone who shops online knows that they choose a store that delivers by next day courier over one that use standard post. Okay, some may argue that there’s an added benefit to not using a service where staff are unlikely to either steal the contents or jump on them like porcelain at a greek wedding, but the fastest route will always win. If you live within the M25 you can even order your book on Amazon before 5 and receive it the same evening.

Yet there’s still a great satisfaction to the wait. I’ve recently treated myself to a nice, shiny-black Sony camera. I could have bought it at any time, but decided to earn it. Just like as a child I’d save up my pocket money by putting it to one side and watching it grow, I set aside certain units of work that were worth varying amounts to reach my goal. At one point I even had one of those thermometer-type thingies you see outside churches at the back of my mind to keep me focusing on the task. And then, one Sunday morning, I arrived at the shop clutching my money and pointing at my chosen toy to the shop assistant.

But in today’s world everything has to come quickly and easily. Turn on the TV and you’ll be greeted by adverts for loans so easily obtained you can apply whilst simultaneously chatting to your spouse and to the operator about the weather in between squash with Mr Jones at number 42 and dinner with the Smythes at number 12. If that sound’s a little bit too wordy, you can change the channel and be greeted with a multitude of ways to fall of rickety ladders or trip over paper-weights at work to get that new conservatory now.

But then it’s not just monetary gain that has to come quickly. If you’ve got a hard luck story or strange hair you can get yourself onto Britain’s got (not so much) Talent, bypassing years of working the clubs and perfecting your skills. You can go on game shows to prove you can beat sports celebrities and avoid years of working your way up through the ranks. Or you can avoid all those screen tests by vomiting outside nightclubs in front of tabloid photographers on a weekly basis and be front page news on Heat until you’re given a chat show on Channel 6.

The contestants on The Apprentice aren’t actually going to be ‘apprentices’. They’re going to go into middle-management with a healthy salary or, if they’re really lucky, be fired and described as ‘zany’ or some other colourful and unusual looking word and end up a celebrity. Sir Alan’s looking to recreate himself, but it’s a far cry from working your way up from being a tailor, then a civil servant just so you can save £100 to buy a van and start your own sales business.

And what, exactly, will all these fast-track wannabes bring to the world? Something as great as the television? The telephone? A toaster which doesn’t just burn toast?

And will they really be proud of their accomplishments, or will they barely hold any value when they’re mopping the floors of their local supermarket six months later?

I’ve just recently found out that one of my neighbours is James Dyson. He first visited the 50-bedroomed 500 acre estate in which he now resides as a child and casually remarked that one day it would be his, something which must have stayed with him as he studied art and then furniture building before starting in engineering. He once remarked that he enjoyed running as a child as he ‘learned determination from it’, and that certainly must have been the case as he worked tirelessly on his inventions. And I daresay as he handed over the £20 million to pay for it, he got a great deal more satisfaction knowing his hard work had been worthwhile than someone who’d just won a recording contract by singing a short ditty to a record producer who got lucky, a sometime actress and sacked newspaper editor on the fast slide to success.