It is a sorry state of affairs if we can’t finish one commemorative project before starting another

The Million Pound Note, a 1954 British comedy, was based on the Mark Twain short story The Million Pound Bank Note. The film cast Gregory Peck in the lead role as a penniless American sailor, Henry Adams, stranded in Edwardian London.

In his bid to raise the fare home, he becomes embroiled in a plan by two eccentric and wealthy brothers, Oliver and Roderick Montpelier, (Ronald Neame and Wilfred Hyde-White) to persuade the Bank of England to print a £1 million note as part of a wager.

While Oliver is convinced that the mere existence of the note will enable whoever presents it to get whatever they want, without ever having to cash it, his brother believes the problems to be encountered will render it worthless and expose Adams as a crook.

To begin with, Oliver is proved right and the American is treated like Royalty and feted wherever he goes. However, before long, the moral of Twain’s cautionary tale strikes home. Ultimately, the money proves

to be more trouble than it is worth as Adams is exposed as a fraud.

It was an uncanny coincidence that this film was shown in the wake of the Jersey £100 banknote row that broke out last week. In an Island obsessed with making money and which is in grave danger of being adversely transformed in the relentless pursuit of wealth for greed’s sake, was anyone surprised that when it came to celebrating the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, it would be with a bank note?

I suppose we should all be grateful that this commemorative note recycles the holographic image of the Queen,k commissioned at the great public expense of £150,000 to celebrate the 800th anniversary of the Island’s allegiance to the Crown, so at least that has kept the costs down.

The Treasury Minister and his department have justified this esoteric choice of commemorative memorabilia with assurances that the £250,000 cost of the notes will be ‘an income-producing investment’ over eight to 24 years.

The note was also said to be one of a series of initiatives to mark the Diamond Jubilee, others apparently being mugs and tea towels also bearing the holographic portrait.

I am a tad baffled as to how a holograph will work after a few washing machines cycles, but no doubt the printing technology exists to overcome such trifles of 21st century housekeeping.

My state of cognitive dissonance was further confused by this rather passé choice of souvenir. If our tourism offering is supposedly targeted at the short spa break affluent market, is it a likely market for mugs and tea towels?

Should the individual members of the coterie of ministers have any more such surprises up their sleeves or other ideas to spend our cash on celebrating the 60th year of the reign of Elizabeth II, could they kindly share them with us before ‘the tea towels have been printed’ in the future?’

A significant amount of public money was spent on the 1204-2004 celebrations and others before. We may have the holographic portrait, albeit tucked away at the top of Mont Orgueil Castle, being put to productive use, but what of the much-lauded Bouaîs’sie du Duc at St Catherine?

This woodland tribute, paid by for public subscription, lies neglected and overgrown, with no acknowledgement for the generosity and efforts of those who not only paid for the trees, but also planted them.

Let us hope that the portrait is put on more accessible display in 2012. And if there are a few spare £100 notes left over, perhaps the wood could be tidied up and a sign erected so that people know what it is.

It is a sorry state of affairs if we can’t finish one commemorative project properly before starting another.

The prospect of £100 notes in circulation filled me with dread and conjured up images of comic Harry Enfield’s obnoxious character Loadsamoney, who symbolised the greed of the 1980s.

No doubt we can now look forward to the renaissance of such charming phrases as ‘Look at my wad’, ‘Wop it out’, ‘Wave my wad at the geezer in the gutter’ and ‘Wop your wad on the counter.’

Or how about this to tempt bar staff, waiters and waitresses as the booze flows on a Friday night after a week’s gambling with our financial futures: ‘Can you break a hundred?’

Mugs and tea towels, coins and banknotes, portraits and stamps have for centuries been memorabilia for Royal celebrations, among an eclectic collection of souvenirs from top-drawer collectables to cheap tat. So are statues and monuments – but we need more of them as much as we need extra traffic bollards.

Royal jubilees, coronations and weddings have for ages been marked by projects to benefit the people, and for long after the event. Surely our money, especially in the current dire economic climate when essential services are being cut, should be spent on worthwhile initiatives such as children’s playgrounds, bursaries and trusts to fund educational and charitable works, parks, footpaths and even public woodland.

If we are to mark such a landmark in British history, then let’s do so with a fitting and enduring commemoration for the benefit of the community – rather than printing money.