In May 2022, I turned up to a field in West Sussex with 600 square meters of tarpaulin, and I was there for work. Over five hours, myself and three esteemed colleagues drove 400 pegs（钉） into the ground. It took five hours. And three days later, our handiwork had been seen by over 400 million people from New Zealand（西兰岛(丹麦最大的岛)） to Israel（以色列（亚洲国家））. What I had done is that I had written a massive（厚重的） "Welcome to Luton" sign right next to Gatwick Airport. Yes.

  No, please. That is not deserving（应受） applause（欢呼）. When I was putting it into the ground, I had no idea what my handiwork would look like, so I needed to check that it was all in the right place. So I did what anyone would do, and I got a flight from London Heathrow to London Gatwick via（经过） Amsterdam（阿姆斯特丹（荷兰首都））. I didn't even get off the plane, and so when I was flying into Gatwick on the left-hand side, 20 seconds before landing, there it was. There was my handiwork.

  Border（ 边缘） control was a bit of an issue（问题）, because according（使一致） to border（ 边缘） control, I hadn't even left the country and flown from Heathrow to Gatwick. So when the border control asked what I was doing, whether（ 是否） I was here for work or pleasure（愉快）, I said that I was here to see my handiwork half a mile up the road. She looked at me, smiled, stamped my passport, and went, "Oh, you naughty（顽皮的） boy." Now, it's weird（怪异的） to think, but this is my job. I am a YouTuber, which is the most sought（寻找）-after profession（职业） for young kids at school today, more so than an actor, more so than a scientist or an astronaut. I am a YouTuber, and I'm essentially（ 本质上） professionally silly（傻的） for a living（生活）.

  I'm not confined（限制） to tarpaulin-based（以…作基础） videos, no, no. I ran for London Mayor（市长） in 2020, with my main manifesto（宣言） point（指向） being don't vote（ 选举） for me. I came 19th out of 20, which is remarkable（异常的）. I also served roadkill to food critics（批评家） without them knowing, and I technically（技术上） became the richest man in the world for seven minutes, being worth（值…的） £500 billion. Now, as I said, I am a YouTuber, which is an incredibly（非常） sought（寻找）-after job, but I'm going to use my 15 minutes here to talk about why the internet and social media has meant that right now is the best time to be a creative person. More than ever, people are being paid to do what they love. Now, the first reason why I think right now is the best time to be a creative person is because the barrier（(阻碍通道的)障碍物） to entry（入口处） is so low. Let's talk about the old days.

  This is the Beatles in the '60s in Hamburg. Now, the Beatles performed every night for four to five hours in nightclubs（夜总会） across Hamburg to really hone（用磨刀石磨） their skills. There, they found a manager who opened their eyes, then up to the world to the audiences on the radio. Now, previously（事先）, if you wanted to be a creative person, a musician, an actor, there were gatekeepers. There were people who would decide whether your talent（天才） was worth（值…的） being seen to by the world. Whereas（然而） now, that's not the case.

  Previously, you needed to get a slot（狭缝） on a stage in a nightclub（夜总会）, but there are a limited（有限的） number of those. Not anymore. And we're seeing already on social media people are monetising what they're passionate（有激情的） about. You can literally（照字面地） do anything. For example, this is Francis Bourgeois（ 资本家）. I'm sure a lot of you here will know who he is.

  If you don't, he's a professional train enthusiast（狂热者）. He gets paid to look at trains and talk about how much he loves them. The second reason why I think there has never been a better time to be in the creative industries, because now, anyone can go viral（ 病毒性的）.