Gah, I hate it. Through the door, up the stairs, ‘ooh, that looks nice’, ‘oh, a bathroom, great!’ bedroom bedroom bedroom ‘I wonder where he keeps his porn’, ‘what a fucking shit tip!’, mouldy couch, mouldy kitchen, mouldy floor, slugs, worms, cockroaches, people, fucking people everywhere! Why the fuck can’t I just say to an estate agent ‘I want a house for sixty pounds a week please, which won’t kill me and has no wildlife, ta very much.’ I’ll tell you why – because all estate agents are bloodsucking scum of the highest order. Twats, to the core.
That’s better. Now, off to look at another house.
