This Fucking England

We sat outside today like they do on the Continent, like dead cosmopolitan, glass of wine and an ice cold lager. It’s what Britain is now like after quitting the broiling cauldron of Europe. We can be cosmopolitan like the rest of them. Did you hear the wonderful reception our Football fans gave the Germans when they played the national Anthem? That’s pure class that is, like San Miguel, Sangria and socks with sandals. Fucks sake, thats enough to make people think twice about visiting England. 

“Welcome to England and Fuck off”

I sent a cross text message last night to the developer, the reason being was that they promised to complete the job (leaking ceiling from shower above) and yet the plumber didn’t seal up the shower tray. We’ve got to wait for the Mastic Man, whoever he is, I imagine i’ll recognise him if he’s totally made of mastic. So I thought to myself “What is Mastic?” I don’t fucking know and i’m so over knowing what it is I haven’t googled it, but Mrs T did, and she tells me its a kind of generic term for sealant around baths, windows, showers, etc etc. A seal, which I would have thought the plumber could do, as he deals in leaks and the prevention thereof, and I would have thought that he would carry such materials in his van to conduct the sealing. But maybe I’m just fucking stupid and I don’t understand. I don’t really want to know what Mastic is, not in this instance  and I’d rather someone else sort out the mess they created in the first place. So my son can’t have a shower now until the Mastic man comes, which is shit. I swear that if I wasn’t such a cynic then I’d say the plumber has a beef with the developer, who is notorious for dragging payment to trades out. 

This is nothing to do with me, this is not my problem, except it has become my problem, just by virtue of living here in this smart new pad. Nothing else, and so I get cross and then I get penalised by the developer because I have uttered a few cross words. One day I’ll slash his tyres, the Dick. And also 1 day he will have moved on to irritate and frustrate another family. Where the fuck do people like him get off? I really hope someone pours indelible paint onto his car and horse shit through his sunroof. 

So in summary, today I felt slightly sad, and resigned to the fact that this shit will be in my life for sometime to come. I’ve already delegated all communication to Mrs T, I end up having just one beer too many and writing inflammatory text messages at 11:31pm. Tomorrow I’l take the dog for a good long walk, thinking about what a woeful country we have turned into and what type of people so often make it to the top, and then I’ll return home and remember what a cool country Germany is.

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