Richard Branson and the reverse Robin Hood – why do companies lavish gifts on the rich?

Pity the tragic billionaire. Richard Branson has revealed that while he might be worth almost £5bn, he hardly ever picks up the bill when he eats out. The Virgin Group founder told the Australian website news.com.au that his cash is often rejected by the owners of his favourite restaurants around the world.

“Obviously, if you’re in that lucky position where you can afford to pick up the bill, you should do it,” he said. “But one of the bizarre things about being successful and making money is the amount of times restaurants will say: ‘Oh, don’t worry, Richard, we don’t expect you to pay.’”

In contrast, the X Factor has come under fire this week for allegedly faking footage of contestants flying first-class to Los Angeles. A video released by the airline showed the singing hopefuls sipping champagne and reclining in luxury seats – but when the cameras were switched off, they were reportedly sent back to economy.

Given the publicity Aer Lingus got from this, you would be forgiven for thinking the airline could have let the contestants fly in first class. Still, at least they weren’t on a Virgin train, eh Richard? They would be lucky to get a seat.

These stories illustrate one of the great ironies of money: that people who have vast sums of cash are often given freebies, while those who can least afford it are left without. Let’s call it a reverse Robin Hood: where companies who would recoil at giving discounts to someone on a minimum wage fall over themselves to distribute expensive gifts to the already wealthy.

The X Factor example seems particularly bad taste considering that this stage of the show is built on taking primarily working-class young people to gawp at mansions supposedly owned by Simon Cowell and the other judges. Filming them in first-class travel before unceremoniously dragging them from their seats takes “look at the life you could have” to a whole other level, and it’s a particularly crass demonstration of how power and wealth work. It is seemingly only once you don’t need the help that other privileged figures see you as someone they want to spend money on.

This goes for positions of power – say, a rich, well-connected figure such as George Osborne being given, at last count, more than a dozen jobs, each with generous salaries, but someone who is struggling to pay the rent can barely get one. It seems like an extension of shopping in a store without price tags; when you have vast wealth, those around you seem keen to forget about that vulgar little thing called money.

One of my favourite quirks of the Oscar ceremony is the goodie bags that nominees receive, containing thousands of dollars worth of beauty products and more. It’s all a bit backwards, isn’t it? Multimillionaire Hollywood stars are perhaps the one group you could give a diamond-studded unicorn to and they would barely bat an eyelid. Give me a free hand cream and I’ll tell everyone I meet about it for a good 72 hours afterwards.

Ethics aside, if companies were smart, they would ditch fawning over the wealthy and start handing out freebies to ordinary folk, who would appreciate it. Give a first-class plane ticket to a trainee teacher and you will get a grateful customer for life. Hand a box of makeup to a new mum and it will be on social media within two minutes. I await my gift baskets in the post.

Being poor shouldn’t mean you are not allowed alcohol

Talking of capitalism, it’s mid-October and like many of you, I’m planning for Christmas. Wait, wait! Give me a minute. As any good elf knows, Christmas doesn’t just arrive on the 25th – it comes with months of planning. Some delights are only possible with some autumnal forethought. Take high-end advent calendars. If you want to get your hands on a coveted beauty calendar – think pricey pots of face creams rather than lumps of chocolate – you will need to race to the high street now, or even get on a waiting list.

At the other end of the inequality spectrum, many food banks are planning ahead for the Christmas season. There’s a scheme near me where you collect goods throughout November and pass on a full basket for someone who needs it to get through the holiday. It’s a great idea, but I paused at one rule: no alcohol.

Perhaps there’s legal reasoning in place, but it all seems a bit Victorian, doesn’t it? It reminds me of those who criticise giving money to people sleeping rough with: “They’ll only spend it on booze!” It simultaneously assumes people in poverty are drunks and wasters, while assigning them a morality clause no one with money is expected to live by.

It’s worth remembering that research by the Social Metric Commission recently showed the middle classes consume more drink and drugs than the poorest. Besides, who would begrudge someone a drink at Christmas, let alone when they are going through the sort of crisis that leads them to a food bank? Being able to offer a guest a glass of fizz and a mince pie is a way to feel human as much as anything. Whether it’s luxury calendars or a bottle of wine with family, we all deserve that.

There’s no longer something about Mary

Once an Irish stalwart, the name Mary is now endangered in Ireland as parents switch to modern alternatives, according to a study by the genealogy company Ancestry. I grew up in an English-Irish household and family legend has it that I was set to be a Mary Frances, but got a last-minute reprieve when Mary was relegated to middle-name status. I have always been relieved about that, what with Mary making me sound like an octogenarian nun. Still, there’s something tragic about the eradication of my (almost) namesake. And there is nothing like scarcity to push up something’s value. Be proud, Marys! You’re Ireland’s rarest gems.