"I'm quite excited about it. I hope it makes us a lot of money. I hope to be able to pay off my mortgage!" Not, sadly, the reaction of Andy Murray after being informed that he'd had 167 eBay bids for his Wimbledon trophy. Not even what Jeremy Paxman said at the launch of his sensational new tell-all book, Oooh Blimey… My Secret, Poetic Mornings with Russell Brand.
No, the person who uttered those somewhat anti-art, rather covetous words was film director and former Monty Python squawker Terry Jones who, apart from being inherently Welsh, is also really quite extraordinarily posh.
TJ was commenting on strong rumours earlier this week that the Pythons were about to announce a reunion show, which I desperately hope they have done by now. Not because I particularly want to go and see the show, but because I won't half look stupid if the rumours turned out to be bogus. Mind you, by the time you read this I shall be in New York City, so if I was wrong, there isn't a damn thing you can do about it.
Much as I used to adore Monty Python… actually, I didn't like the television show. It was the films. Particularly Life of Brian. But as brilliant as Cleese, Palin, Idle, Jones, Chapman and Gilliam used to be, I just don't go along with reunions as a matter of course. Even more so in the music world.
Of course, there is nothing more "now" than bands from "then" climbing into their Spanx and delighting arenas full of thirtysomething sales managers called Joyce. The other day, I was channel-hopping and happened upon a reunion concert of Spandau Ballet.
Apart from the performance being the first time I have heard a saxophone played on a pop song for about a hundred years, it was also a chance for me to re-evaluate a band who were second only to Duran Duran when it came to Top of the Pops hugeness in the early Eighties. I watched Hadley and pals sweat their way through half a dozen songs and, surprisingly, I have to reveal that each and every song sounded absolutely awful. Never go back, lads. Never.
I have never been to a school reunion. I never will, so don't ask me. Of course, there are many who do go. A friend in the Old Country went to a couple of reunions of our school year, but reported them to be about as thrilling as double trig on an overcast Monday.
For me, school pretty much sucked constantly. And if it didn't, if there were good times, they all happened too long ago to be recalled easily. And certainly nothing happened that was as funny as Life of Brian.
Saying that, the Python chaps may have a more golden past than any of us, but I still think going back there is a bad idea.