Oh Nikki, I might even miss you now you're gone....nah. Although you must take full and complete congratulations for this face, which so nicely sums up how I'm feeling about my landlord today:
He has issued a list of rules which we must now obey. Amongst this diatribe of anal self-righteousness, is the insistence that there MUST BE NO OVERNIGHT GUESTS IN THE HOUSE, OR A POX ON ALL YOUR FIRST BORN SONS!
Wha? I wasn't aware we were living in a youth hostel. How about if I get written permission from their parents, and we agree not talk past 10pm, and have a chaperone, and only watch BBC1, and not eat anything which could possibly stain the carpet?? Garrrgh! He's my uncle, so phoning him up and telling him to go fuck himself, although satisfying in the short term, will cause huge family ructions and possibly a mild earthquake somewhere in the mid-Sussex region. I want to go round and hold a punk rock festival on his pathetically neat front lawn, but will probably have to be appeased by churning up his gravel and turning over a few flower pots in the dead of night.