The sharp increase in the number of British millionaires may be a good thing, but it creates a problem. While it means a lot to have accumulated assets worth £1 million or more, it means a lot less than it used to. Most of the 715,000 to have crossed the threshold have done so thanks to the steadily rising value of their homes. They float in a vast numerical space with no new word to describe their wealth until they reach a billion.
It is time to agree on a pair of intermediate wealth indicators to cover fortunes worth eight and nine figures respectively. We suggest squillionaire and gazillionaire. They are already in common usage. They linger agreeably on the tongue, like a fine Sancerre, and like bodybuilders they would surely be grateful for the definition.
Yet still the problem is not solved. With average household wealth still well below £1 million even in the southeast of England, it is safe to assume the bulk of the new rich are clustered at the “poor” end of the millionaire-squillionaire continuum. How to distinguish between them?
One option is by abode. There must be a few Rhylionaires on the north Wales riviera. Another is by profession. Rich assassins, clearly, are killionaires. Greengrocers who’ve made a mint on herbs are dillionaires and waste management tycoons can only be landfillionaires. Successful pharmacists (or professional motorcyclists who carry passengers) are pillionaires. We don’t have many drillionaires, not being Oklahoma, but we have a broadcaster who’s a brillionaire, and plenty of property developers, aka ant-hillionaires.
Questionnaires could ask if it’s too doctrinaire to call an affluent solicitor a willionaire, but there’s no doubt that top rollercoaster builders could be thrillionaires. Depending on his or her contract, the nation’s top Nando’s franchisee could even be a grillionaire concessionaire extraordinaire.