But no. She has decided to dock fifty pounds each from me and the other housemates for the most bizarre and cuntish reasons possible. Cuntish reasons include 'House not left neat and tidy.' and 'Rooms not hoovered for months.' Lies, lies, lies. Bizarre reasons include, in regards to the bathroom (and this merits its own mini paragraph)...

'Body-fat still left on tiles.'

Eh?

EH?!!

I have no idea if she is just as thick as a rather wide, girthy PLANK or thinks we were running a backstreet liposuction clinic, using the bathtub to deposit the contents of our patients' thighs, stomachs and arses, but either way the woman is a prize twat.

I have been discouraged from ringing her up to complain, as thinking about such matters sends me into a somewhat apoplectic rage and I'm likely to tell her the various ways I wish to seek vengeance, which aren't, on the whole, entirely pleasant.

So I'm going to take great glee in reporting her to our student accommodation services and having her blacklisted.

Anyway, enough ranting for the while. I'm off to Brighton tomorrow for a day of fun and frolics with various people. I'm looking forward to it and because getting to Brighton (by train, which we are) involves going through London I will be glad to get my first post-bombing London visit out the way because I, for one, want these damn dreams to stop. (It's been one a night for more than a week now - I'm sick of them.)

This entry was brought to you by the letters PMT.

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