At just before 4am this morning I discovered that owning a nice new car doesn’t come without the odd hiccup. For reasons best known to itself, the car’s alarm decided to go off on a 30 second scream-fest, waking me and I suspect the neighbours too, at a time when I’m sure everyone would have prefered to be asleep.
By the time I had grasped that it was my alarm and struggled to the upright position, the smegger had shut up. In my foggy state of mind I slipped back into bed wondering why it had chosen to wake me at this unearthly hour. That’s when the paranoia started to work its magic.
Was there some scally prying out the CD player as I lay there taking the easy option?
Were the windows shattered to powder and the tyres cut to ribbons?
Did the above automobile assailant have designs on the house when he was done with the car?
With Fliss snoring away beside me like Darth Vader having an asthma attack in a gas mask, I decided I wasn’t going to get back to sleep in the near future anyway and like in all the best horror movies I set off in the dark to the ground floor to investigate.
It came as a reasonable relief, but not great surprize, that the car was completely unharmed and showed no evidence of why it had chosen to seek attention like a crying child in the middle of the night.
On a more positive note, does this show that my parental instincts are intact? I mean, I heard the cries for help while Fliss slept on. :o)
The landlords of our recently departed flat have chosen to hold back ?100 of the deposit because the flat “needed cleaning” and the kitchen units needed fixing. I don’t think I’m putting it too strongly when I say they are a bunch of cheating, rip-off scumbags who I’d quite happily see stabbed to death with a rusty knife.
We cleaned every inch of that freaking flat – hoovered and mopped the wooden floors. The kitchen was spotless and the place was left pretty much as we found it – including the busted and incomplete kitchen units.
I know I should have gotten something in writing when I moved in to say that they would fix the kitchen units and that they were broken beforehand, but Andrew Connel assured me that his handyman would fix them. Not to mention open the front windows – something that we were unable to do for the six months we lived there.
If you ever come across Andrew and David Connel of Consolux, please be forewarned that they are not worth a second of your time.
Oh, and their flats are expensive too!
Edit : Due to some fucking twat accusing me of being melodramatic, I thought I’d add that it was my company who paid the above deposit for the flat. So, while I would merely be pissed off about losing ?100, I think the fact that my HR department assume I trashed a flat that the company paid the deposit for gives me good enough reason to be a little bit more angry than that.
And fuck you Eoan for coming here and attempting to dredge up shit on me solely to justify your own cuntish comments. Nice one.