So farewell, Lewis. It was nice of you live here for 22 years before clearing off for tax purposes.
All you had to say was "I want to keep more of my money thanks, and go and live where all the other F1 drivers and cuckoo clocks live." Instead, I read that you found it a bit difficult to use the toilet at petrol stations. Well guess what: so do I. It’s either out of order or when I get the key and open the door, suddenly I don’t want to go. I’ve been forced to nip round the back of the car wash to relieve myself on previous occasions; mercifully, Shell had elected not to press charges when their lawyers last spoke to mine.
Tax is inevitable. It’s horrible, it’s too much, but as a 22-year-old you shouldn’t be worried about paying it. You should be more concerned with having some money left at the end of the week, like any other 22-year-old in the country. That's because those of us in normal jobs - the sort you get just after leaving uni - are pretty skint. I appreciate that you're not your the typical early-20s Brit, but it'd be good to read that, in return for your extraordinary good fortune, you were prepared to contribute to the country's collective pension fund for a bit. That's what the rest of us have to do.
It's not as if you're famous enough to be a special case, either; after all, there are plenty of other rich people in the UK who aren't above paying some tax. I notice that the multi-talented Jordan and Peter Andre aren’t complaining about all the attention they get, or the tax they have to pay as a result of their publicly-gotten gains. Take a leaf out of their book.
I saw the late great Graham Hill at a London Motor Show in the early ‘70s striding like a colossus through the crowd, and everyone wanted to talk to him. He didn’t mind a bit; in fact he seemed to love it. Deep down, I suspect you still get a little kick out of your notoriety; would you rather be an accountary, or an estate agent? Or a bus driver? Oh, and FYI, Hill had the tax issue much worse than you do, and he never left his beloved Blighty, even when the tax rate was 98%.
I promise that in the few weeks a year that you spend with the clock-makers you will be bored out of your full face helmet. You may also be surprised to learn that autograph books have not yet been outlawed by the Swiss authorities, even if their owners are a little more submissive over there than they are here. You'll still be bothered; you'll still be you.
If I'm at a loose end, I may even organise Lewis Hamilton visitor tours of Swiss service areas during the off season myself, just to ram my point home. There'll be armies of us waiting to greet you after you've spent your extra wedge on that new Rolex, or that metric tonne of Toblerone. You'll wish you were paying your 40 per cent then, I assure you.
Love and hugs,