Tempers fray; constitutions weaken; ‘I just want a room you bastards’
I’ve been nailed by my first cold. I went to bed feeling a little bit lurgy but got knocked down by the news that I didn’t get any houses I wanted and will have to raise myself from the infirmary/nursery to once again walk up and down the cold streets of London. I can’t express to you how much I hate looking for a place to live. First of all, you have to scan the newspaper ads, picking out the low-cost, suitable areas. Next up, you have to ring all the people, most of whom are not at home, or have already filled the room. If by some divine intervention you manage to get hold of someone and arrange a time to see the place you then have to get there, go through the charade of an interview, and wait for them to tell you the place has been filled. I think the next time I go, I just won’t leave the room I’m being shown.
SCENE
Dude (played by ‘Bill and Teds’ Keanu Reeves but with an English accent)
Me (played by Johnny Depp as in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, but taller)
Dude – And this is the room … um.
Me – Does the bed come with the room?
Dude – Ah … yeah the bed’s staying.
(Sounds of scuffling and muffled shouts before a door slams)
Dude – Hey! Come out of there. I’ve got other people coming to look at the place.
Me – Fuck you! If you want to get me out, you have to throw me out, you rat bastards.
As tempting as this strategy is, my physical state is too weakened to contemplate any violence. My approach will have to mirror a McDonalds ad, after they had contributed to Nixon’s first election victory: ‘There are lots of talented losers and broke geniuses, but it takes persistence to succeed.’
This is certainly true in politics, and in looking for a room as well. In both you have to try and satisfy different peoples’ needs, pretend you’re someone else, and spend an awful amount of time trying to do it. I think I’m going to have to develop an 80’s capitalistic approach to finding a house. Namely, fuck anyone over that gets in my way, and screw people before they screw me. Sounds a little extreme but you’re not here listening to these polite assholes. I’m slowly being turned into a snarling, twisted beast, not dissimilar to Nixon or John Howard. My only thoughts are of London suburbs and rent prices. I pray that I can find enough of a human being left inside myself to force a smile on my future housemate.
DISCLAIMER – The preceding notes were made under a cloud of medication and emotional suffering. The author does not accept any responsibility for the twisted nature of his subconscious, but blames a misspent youth in front of computers, TV and books.
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