Changing the value of something is easy. Making profit out of it is different.
In a south-east London home, a man named Jamie Moakes has spent fifteen years and thousands of pounds quietly accumulating nearly three hundred Ram Man action figures — a minor, largely forgotten toy from the 1980s He-Man universe — in a deliberate attempt to manufacture scarcity and, with it, value. Inspired by the 2008 financial crisis and its strange theatre of gold-buying, Moakes began asking the oldest question in economics: who decides what anything is worth? His experiment is part performance art, part market theory, and part stubborn faith that the story we tell about an object can become the object's truth.
- The urgency is philosophical but personal — Moakes has staked fifteen years, a marriage, and thousands of pounds on the idea that value is a story, and he is determined to be its author.
- The tension lies in the arithmetic: with an estimated two million Ram Mans ever produced, one man's collection of three hundred is a whisper against a flood.
- At Edinburgh Fringe in 2011, he auctioned figures nightly to live audiences, turning economic theory into performance and letting crowds set the price — the experiment briefly became real.
- An economist from the University of Essex called the strategy clever but cautioned against spending too much, recognising the logic of monopoly while doubting the scale.
- A new He-Man film released in June 2026 has given Moakes his most credible opening yet, as fresh collectors hunt for obscure figures and find themselves passing through a drawbridge he largely controls.
- Whether the gamble pays off remains unresolved, but the experiment has already succeeded in one sense — it has made people question, seriously, how value is born.
Jamie Moakes keeps nearly three hundred Ram Man action figures in his south-east London home. Ram Man is not a celebrated toy. He is a squat, barely-articulated minor character from the 1980s He-Man cartoon — a figure so peripheral he was bullied even within the show. Moakes chose him for exactly that reason.
The idea arrived during the 2008 financial crisis, when television filled with advertisements urging people to sell their gold. Moakes found himself asking a simple, destabilising question: who decided gold was worth anything? The answer, he concluded, was that value is largely a collective agreement — a story enough people choose to believe. Gold had not changed in 2008. The narrative around it had. So Moakes decided to write his own narrative, with Ram Man as the subject.
His most public act came in 2011 at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where each night he presented a mock-serious slideshow arguing that Ram Man was a sound investment, then auctioned a figure to the audience. The performances were comic, but the theory underneath them was not. By day he sold tiles. By night he was running an experiment in manufactured scarcity.
Over fifteen years, he sourced figures from across Britain and as far as Chicago. He found one on his honeymoon in Paris. Prices paid ranged from twenty pence to eight hundred pounds. He brought in an economist — Professor Eric Smith of the University of Essex — who met him in a pub, acknowledged the monopolist logic of the scheme, and advised him not to spend too much. Moakes pressed on regardless.
The obstacle is enormous: Mattel produced an estimated two million Ram Mans. Moakes will not say what his collection is worth, understanding that silence is itself a strategic asset. 'Changing the value of something is easy,' he has said. 'Making profit out of it is a different thing.'
Now, with a new He-Man film released in June 2026, he believes his moment may finally be arriving. New collectors will search for Ram Man and find the supply thin — controlled, in large part, by him. Smith, hearing that Moakes was still at it, admitted he had a soft spot for the endeavour. Some experiments, it turns out, matter not because they succeed, but because someone was stubborn enough to keep trying.
Jamie Moakes sits in his home in south-east London with nearly three hundred Ram Man action figures—a collection that has cost him thousands of pounds to assemble over the past fifteen years. Ram Man is not a famous toy. He is a minor character from the 1980s He-Man cartoon, a figure that barely moves, that looks different from the other toys, that was even bullied in the show itself. Moakes chose him precisely because of this obscurity. His plan was simple and strange: buy up enough Ram Mans to make them scarce, convince people they were valuable, and watch the price climb.
The idea came to him during the 2008 financial crisis, when television was flooded with advertisements urging people to sell their gold for cash. Moakes found himself asking a question that seemed obvious once posed: who decided gold was worth anything in the first place? The answer, he realized, was that value is largely arbitrary—a collective agreement that something matters because enough people have decided it does. Gold had no sudden intrinsic change in 2008. What changed was the story people told about it. So Moakes decided to test this theory. He would become the architect of Ram Man's value.
His breakthrough came in 2011 when he performed at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Each night, he would present a slideshow attempting to convince the audience that Ram Man was a sound investment, that its rarity would drive its price upward. The shows were tongue-in-cheek, he says, but also not quite. At the end of each performance, he would auction off a Ram Man figure and let the crowd determine what it was worth. By day he worked as a tile seller. By night he was conducting an experiment in manufactured scarcity.
The collection grew. Moakes bought Ram Mans for prices ranging from twenty pence to eight hundred pounds. He sourced them from across Britain and as far away as Chicago. On his honeymoon in Paris, he found another one. The accumulation became almost obsessive, a fifteen-year commitment to a single idea. When the BBC caught up with him again in 2026, he had amassed nearly three hundred figures—a significant portion of what he could reasonably acquire, though estimates suggest roughly two million Ram Mans were ever produced by Mattel.
Moakes brought in an economist to validate his thinking. Professor Eric Smith from the University of Essex met him in a pub, amused by the audacity of the scheme. Smith acknowledged that the strategy was clever—that if you control access to a resource, you become a monopolist. But his advice was blunt: don't spend too much money trying this. Moakes laughed it off. He believed that if circumstances had aligned differently, Ram Man could have become what Bitcoin became—a speculative asset that captured the public imagination and generated real wealth for early believers.
The problem, of course, is that two million Ram Mans exist in the world. Moakes refuses to disclose what his collection is actually worth, saying that naming a price would anchor expectations and undermine his strategy. That silence itself is part of the game. He holds the power of information, and he knows it. When asked about his chances of success, he is philosophical. "Changing the value of something is easy," he said. "Making profit out of it is a different thing." He has learned the distinction between theory and practice.
Now, with a new He-Man film released in June 2026, Moakes sees an opening. New collectors will want to complete their collections. They will search for Ram Man and discover that he is difficult to find—that they must pass through what Moakes calls a drawbridge, mostly controlled by him. Whether this moment will finally validate his fifteen-year gamble remains uncertain. But Smith, when told that Moakes was still at it, could not hide his admiration. "I have a soft spot for these quixotic adventures," the economist said. "I'm thrilled that he's still going at it." Some experiments, it seems, matter not because they succeed, but because someone had the audacity to try.
Notable Quotes
It felt like you were trying to make a hero out of something that's not there and it really struck a chord with people.— Jamie Moakes, on why he chose Ram Man
I have a soft spot for these quixotic adventures, people who are experimenting and trying to explore the world around them.— Professor Eric Smith, University of Essex economist
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why Ram Man specifically? There are hundreds of forgotten toys from that era.
Because he was the underdog. He doesn't move, he just rams things. He was even mocked in the show itself. There's something almost poetic about trying to make a hero out of something nobody wanted.
But you must have known the odds were against you. Two million of these things exist.
Of course I knew. But that's not really the point. The point was to ask the question: who gets to decide what's valuable? I was testing whether value is real or invented.
And what did you learn?
That it's both. You can manufacture scarcity, you can tell a compelling story, but you can't force people to care. The gap between those two things is where the real work happens.
Do you actually believe Ram Man could have become Bitcoin?
Not literally. But Bitcoin proved that people will assign enormous value to something with no intrinsic worth if the narrative is right. I was trying to do the same thing, just with a toy from 1982.
After fifteen years, do you regret the money you've spent?
Not for a second. I've spent thousands, yes, but I've learned something most people never do: how arbitrary value really is. That's worth more than whatever profit I might have made.