I’ve had entrepreneurial aspirations since I can remember, and although I dreamt about it, I didn’t expect to become a millionaire so quickly. When I was seven, when the web didn’t exist and I was unaware it was going to make my fortune, I was already designing my first corporate logos and pictures of my office, all the time imagining one day running my own company.
I started drawing and selling my own comics when I was nine. I photocopied the comic for 5p a copy and sold it for 30p at school. The first edition included a small chocolate bar, to catch the kids’ attention.
At my Somerset boarding school I initially dealt tuck and sweets, but soon began to see other opportunities. Once, our PE teacher was not happy because the class was mucking around. We were meant to play football on the top of a hill, where there was no water, and he forbade us to take any drinks as a punishment. I knew everybody would be thirsty after the game, so I filled two bottles with tap water and smuggled them to the pitch. When the match finished everybody was dying of thirst. I took the water out and said: “Does anybody want some?” With no competition, I charged 50 pence a swig. You might call that ruthless but it was a good business opportunity. I provided a product, they were thirsty, and it was sorted.
My life changed when the internet reached our school. In no time I set up my first site: bigfestivals.com. It had listings of music festivals around England and was the first of its kind. But soon came a competitor, and as it was richer it grabbed a bigger audience. I had ideas and drive, but no hard cash.
As that site died, I opened an online beatboxing forum, where people interested in vocal reproductions of drums and sounds met. I created the site with a £2,000 loan from the Prince’s Trust. I organised international conventions, performed at gigs, and even had a cameo appearance on EastEnders. It became my life, but I soon realised that business and passions don’t always work together. I sold the site for £1,000 and decided that the next step was a business degree.
I worked at Tesco to save some money and although I didn’t enjoy the job, it was a valuable experience. After six months I quit and began working on a business to help fund university. A bank lent me £1,500, which, with £1,000 I’d saved, was for an innovative new site that would offer “virtual relaxation” (I’ve been keen on meditation for years). Unfortunately I underestimated the workload and it was never launched. I needed a new idea. I didn’t want to end university with more than £30,000 debt like my brother.
I asked the question, “How can I become a millionaire?” I wrote down the attributes of the perfect idea: simple, catchy, cheap. Then this crazy idea came to me: sell a million pixels for a dollar. Yes! Open a one-page website, divide it into a million pixels (or dots) and sell the space as advertising. Easy. I named it milliondollarhomepage.com. I chose the dollar; it’s the international currency and I knew the Americans would love it.
Family and friends helped to buy the first pixels. With the first $1,000 I wrote a press release. When the media picked it up, it all went crazy. In no time I earned $100,000... £200,000... and more money led to more attention: a snowball effect. By the time university started I had enough money for three years and, I must admit, I spent a fair bit on partying and buying rounds. But I didn’t tell anybody I was the million dollar guy - it would have spoilt the fun.
An agent in the US contacted me and proposed I write a book, ready for the final pixel I sold. I declined but the same person organised a media tour in the States so that we could maximise sales. It was a great move, and experience. In the US I met crazy people, went on television and had a great time. End result? More pixels were sold. It all went so fast. Demand for pixels exceeded supply and I blocked everything when the last 1,000 pixels were left. I auctioned them on eBay and earned my dream: $1m.
Inevitably something had to go wrong. The moment I got the $1m, a hacker hijacked the site and demanded $50,000 to put it online again. I refused and didn’t reply to his blackmail. Instead I upgraded the security system and put the homepage back online. I never heard anything else from him again.
My adventure proved that it is possible to achieve a dream. It worked because the idea went “viral”, but it is a one-off business - a get-rich-quick scheme. I doubt it will happen again, but it shows that original ideas can succeed on the net. There are many others like me who are waiting for a chance and the internet is where everything will happen in the future. It takes determination and preparation. If you are ready for that, anyone can make a million dollars. Good luck!
As told to James Fontanella.
To share your story with the FT Magazine, e-mail firstperson@ft.com
