Last night, bopping around to a bit of Tubby and Tapper Zukie on moi pod in Asda, I bumped into my old landlady. A big, blonde, Bulgar who I had not seen in 2 and a half years. It was one of those, walk past, double take, oh bollocks, curiosity killed the awkward cat moments.
And here the sordid tale begins; for I fear that with this brief encounter I have got someone I don't know into a bit of trouble.
I been livin' in the same ends for a good few years now, almost long enough to be recognised as the local nutter. Being a really rather observant motherfucker on my solitary collie wanders, I often gaze up at my old flat at number 15. A few months ago I noticed that one of the internal walls in the living room had been painted from a white to a deep blue. Hmmm, that's different I thought.
So, back in Asda, I start talking to the puff pastry. I say, "So you still got the old place yeah??". She says, "Oh, yes". What else do I have to say to the lady?? The first thing that comes to my head, of course. "Oh, yeah, the wall's blue now isn't it." Her face drops into a mixture of confusion and slight shock, "No, it shouldn't be! They not allowed to do that! I'll have to check up on that", she says. "Oh shit", I think, why the fuck would you mention a blue wall to anyone in conversation! I guess my love of detail only leads to socially awkward moments. So, thinking on my feet (brain in feet more likely) I say, "Ummm, well, nice to see you, I hope I haven't got anyone into trouble" and in true Snagglepuss style "exit stage left."
I shall keep thee posted as to when the wall becomes white again. And if the blog doesn't get updated, I've probably been buried somewhere on Blackheath by the residents of number 15. Looks like I might have lost someone's deposit.
Ex-Landlady and Right Said Fred in the same day! I wonder what crazy japes are in store for me today.
Jah Bless.
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