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Where is my white cat and my Eames recliner?

If I was a 20th century super-villain, obviously I'd want to live here, in a data center with 40 centimetre thick blast doors, designed to withstand a nuclear strike.

I'd also want one of these as my run-around (with a shark pool under the conference table for under-performing executives, of course).

But these concepts of super-villaindom are ever so slightly passé and non-virtual — hypertrophied visions of pre-21st century luxury. What would a true 21st century supervillain lifestyle look like? A very slim aluminium briefcase containing an iPhone and a Coutts platinum Visa card, perhaps? (After all, if you're that rich, everything is effectively disposable except information ...)

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