Ben Machell on being careful with his cash… now he’s leaving ES

Well this year, I’ve finally taken control. Which is to say, my girlfriend has sorted us out with one of those sexy joint account cards that logs everything you spend your money on. Initially, I thought this would work in a big data sort of way, and that by forensically crunching the numbers we would be able to work out where we could make clever economies — eg, not buying round after round of festive pints for people you don’t really know and who just happen to be sitting near you. But what I now know is that it works through shame and shame alone. Every time I spend something, my girlfriend immediately receives an alert on her phone. And vice versa. If I splurge £20 on one of my secret, sordid sushi binges? Ping! She knows. If she buys yet another jumper from Zara. Ping! I can confront her about it by text within 10 seconds.

We now end up in these strange Mexican stand-offs, both of us twitching over some stupid, impulsive purchase, a single bead of sweat running down our temples. But neither of us willing to be the one who cracks first. It means we now only spend money on the things we actually need. It’s great. It’s awful.

This is, I should mention, my last column. I’ve enjoyed the past three years massively, and I’d like to thank you all for being so patient. There are, I accept, only so many anecdotes about a sweaty man stomping around London and noticing things that society will tolerate. But you’ve all been remarkably good sports about it, which means a lot. I’m writing a book next year — a book that will have nothing to do with walking round London and noticing things — so that’s what I’m up to. So yeah, thanks! Cheers! Bye!