Way back, even before I were a lad, some of the convicts serving their sentence here in Australia really did have rather a grand time. Gruel and slops three times a day, gainfully employed, working in the sunshine rather than Midlands or London smog and learning a trade, albeit unpaid. Some had such a grand time they wrote home advising their siblings to go out and get caught thieving a scarf or maybe a loaf of bread and thus get themselves a free ticket to this land of plenty and promise.

In the time it took the judiciary and the politicians to realise what was going on, a goodly number had, Star Trek like, transported themselves to Sydney, Brisbane and Tasmania, free gratis, courtesy of HM Government.

Fast forward a couple of hundred years and the land of plenty is still coughing up. From recent experience there are many ways to make loads-a-money out here.

Forget banking, developing a wonder app or indeed mining. Get a job working on punters' boats, of which there is an inexhaustible supply, all needing super expensive chandlery, electronics and endless amounts of washing, polishing and antifoul.

"How much to antifoul our wee boat?", says I in all innocence. Fifteen grand!! I'd have fallen about laughing if they hadn't looked so serious. To do some touch ups on the gel coat over maybe all of six feet - five thou just for the tent they'd have to erect around the boat. How much to get the radar down from the mast, a highly technical job requiring the use of both a spanner and a screw driver? $650.

What a lark. What a gold mine. No wonder it's called the Gold Coast.