Not a penny more, just a penny less

Being rich can be such a bore. Choice, that most precious of things, is taken away when you can have it all.

The hotels, restaurants and cafés you frequent are restricted to the accepted few, the designers you wear, prescribed with the same rigid authority as the way you wear your hair, the expressions you use and the company you keep.

Also, the things you are allowed to complain about are lamentably few.

The endless wait

Then along comes the credit crunch, knocking you off the Forbes 2009 Billionaires List, which reveals that even Bill Gates is £12.2 billion (Dh64.93 billion) the poorer.

You wait to feel the hit to your daily life, closing your eyes and holding your hand out like a child waiting to be chastised — and nothing happens.

First comes the euphoria (“I won't have to change a thing!''), then the disappointment: No delicious commiseration sessions over refreshments at Cecconis, no enforced eBay shopping to pride yourself on and no travelling on the bus to find aubergines for less.

As the UK unites in Blitz spirit, you stand alone, a blushing figure with an expensive It bag. Unless, of course, you pretend.

That, according to a recent issue of Tatler, is what the tribe christened the New Faux Poor (NFP) do.

They tell lies too, about being forced to downsize their houses, bonuses and expense accounts, while exaggerating the amount of money they've lost, chance of redundancy and the number of times they use public transport.

They sack members of their household staff just because everyone else is doing it; develop a utilities conscience and force the caterers to park up the street before a party.

Such fraudulence is our default position, says Peter York, co-author of The Official Sloane Ranger Handbook.

“Humble and threadbare is what the English do best. This recession has given them an excuse to behave in a way that comes naturally to them. Now there is a delight in rediscovering poverty.

"It's good old Marie Antoinette again: The rich are throwing themselves into it and loving every minute of it.''

Fake delight

Distressed millionaires and billionaires are competing against one another to show how far their fortunes have been reduced.

“I told people my tan was fake,'' says a Notting Hill princess. “Well, I couldn't say it was from Verbier, could I? I didn't tell anyone I had even been skiing.''

Nor are men exempt from the trend, York says. They're leading it. “Wealthy men have been sporting the faux-humble, frayed-collar look for years. There will be more of that to come.''

Postcode snobbery, as always, is rife, only inverted. “I tell people I live in Shepherd's Bush now, rather than Holland Park,'' says a banker, suffering from the geographical confusion politicians have been afflicted with for years.

Openly enjoying opulence is also a no-no.