My downstairs toilet took a revamping a couple of months ago. It now is orange – bright, bright orange. The toilet seat, bog brush and even the bog roll is all a lovely shade of tangerine (we’ve used up all the fancy paper now, hello Charmin Ultra, you pale-coloured excuse for a bumwipe). In fact the only thing that isn’t orange in that 2x1 metre room is a small stain of puke put there by Tom Beale the night we all got hammered at my crib. How he managed to get a little bit above the door handle I’ll never know, but respect points for bouncing it that far off the toilet rim nonetheless.
The house I live in has actually taken a battering. It used to be semi-detached, but after our next-door neighbour’s husband died she sold it to us for some knock-off price. I think he died in the room that’s now my bedroom actually – what a lovely thought. I also went through a phase of unscrewing all of the plugs in the house when I was small. I thought that unless I did, I’d end up as a younger and slightly crispier Desmond Tutu. Now I look back on it, it’s kinda obvious that if anything was going to kill me, it would be the act of actually unscrewing a plug socket and ripping all the wires out. But when you’re little it’s a necessary risk, if not a bit fun.
As I write this, I’m lying in the guest bedroom on a double bed with my legs as far apart as I can get them. It sounds kinkier than it actually is; I just enjoy the room I don’t get at university. In those cells you don’t get the luxury of not being able to feel the bed planks underneath. I’m still waiting on a reply to my request for a new mattress. I might deliberately sabotage it so all the bed springs pop out and I get a lovely new one, but give it a couple of months and it’ll do that by itself. I won’t feel so bad about milking em for all they’ve got then. Our hoover is also a bit rubbish too. When the bag is full, the hoover simply stops working. Thing is, we have to apply online for a new one, which takes about five days to actually get results from. Sounds a bit like hygiene-fail if ever I saw one.
Richard Search, head of accommodation, if you ever read this, the views expressed are not my own but simply a series of spelling errors made by my elderly and senile secretary that I’m dictating this to. Your hoovers are of immaculate condition and the system you run is very hygiene-friendly and does not in any way piss me off. Whilst I’m here, I’m sorry but it was me that cracked your Batman coffee mug you left on your desk. If it makes you feel any better, I think I did do a good job selotaping the handle back on though. I think it adds character.
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