One thing's certain - it's not me! That £113m is not lying lost and forlorn, crying out for a happy home in my bank account. It's not me it's calling for, because knowing the odds of winning the lottery are 14m to 1, I gave it a miss from the start.
But somebody out there is a fan. And boy, have they come up trumps big time. As yet though, they are blissfully unaware. Could even be worrying where the next pack of fags is coming from. Or how they will feed the cat.
They may be exploring the ruins of Machu Picchu, as part of their world trip. Or sailing their 500ft yacht off Marbella. Too busy quaffing champagne to check. Could be out of touch on an oil rig. Or down a Bolivian mine. Anywhere but claiming the cash from Camelot. Earing £8,500 a day in interest.
This person is the 589th richest in Britain and has no idea. May be they are even now ripping the sofa apart to find the ticket. Seems they could still claim if they say where they bought it and when. Assuming they get out of intensive care after the heart attack. ..
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