by Henry VIII pitches a business idea at a Dragons’ Den style event and discovers that confidence alone no longer secures the investment
I once granted land, titles, and entire fortunes to men who simply asked me confidently enough, no spreadsheet required. The panel at the local pitch night wanted three years of financial projections before they would commit a single pound.
The Business Idea
My pitch, developed with Dev’s considerable help, proposed a themed walking tour of London led entirely in character, a concept the panel seemed to genuinely enjoy right up until they asked about my customer acquisition cost, a phrase I had not previously encountered and initially assumed referred to some kind of royal ransom.
The Panel
Four investors sat behind a small table, each introduced with an impressive list of prior successful ventures, and I found myself instinctively attempting to read them the way I once read visiting ambassadors, searching for the one genuinely sympathetic face among four otherwise unreadable expressions.
The Numbers Question
Asked directly about my projected revenue for year one, I offered a confident, entirely improvised figure that one panellist, a sharp woman named Aisha, dismantled within seconds by asking exactly how many tours I intended to run weekly and at what price point, a level of scrutiny I found genuinely more rigorous than most actual parliamentary questioning I faced across my original reign.
The Verdict From The Panel
Two panellists declined entirely, one citing insufficient market research, the other citing, with genuine and slightly wounding honesty, doubts about scalability beyond my own personal involvement, a criticism I found difficult to argue with given the entire concept relied specifically on me being present and, ideally, alive.
The Unexpected Offer
Aisha, despite her earlier scrutiny, offered a modest sum in exchange for a percentage stake and a formal, written business plan within thirty days, an offer I accepted immediately, having learned that genuine rigour, however uncomfortable in the moment, tends to produce partners considerably more reliable than flattery ever did.
The Verdict
I have spent the past fortnight drafting the business plan Aisha requested, a document considerably harder to write than any royal proclamation, requiring me to justify every claim with actual evidence rather than simple royal assertion. I once ruled through confidence alone. I am currently learning, slowly and with real effort, to rule through cash flow forecasts instead, and I find it, against all expectation, genuinely satisfying.
The Business Plan
I have spent the past fortnight drafting Aisha’s requested plan, a document harder to write than any proclamation, requiring actual evidence rather than royal assertion. I once ruled through confidence alone. I am learning, slowly, to rule through cash flow forecasts instead, and find it genuinely satisfying.
Rigour, however uncomfortable, tends to produce partners worth having. I have decided cash flow, unglamorous as it sounds, is the honest backbone of any real venture. The business plan sits properly alongside my succession plan. Further reading on the wider chaos of modern Britain: the original account of my own return to Britain, Burnham’s own homeowners tax plan turning boiler repairs into an oligarch’s problem, the proper London pub where history finally sat down for a pint.
