Would you allow your business to be advised by a new consultancy whose most senior staff member allowed herself to be inpregnated by this utter cunt?

No, neither would I.

I bet Sir Alan is fucking delighted.

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I’m not going to swear, I promise.

At no point will I refer to those cunty fucking shysters in derogatory terms.

The reason for my extreme displeasure is that I am trying to rent out my other flat at the moment, as part of my strategy to become a property magnate (not magnet, which means something entirely different I now realise). My efforts are being thwarted by having a devious, deceitful, morally corrupt agency acting on my behalf.

In the past 12 months these utter cuntbags have placed two sets of problem tenants in my flat, both of whom I’ve had to ask to vacate the property, leaving numerous unpaid utility bills (have a guess where they come knocking when the tenant disappears), and now they can’t get anyone to move in. Despite me spending £1000 on redecorating the place.

Each conversation I have with them goes like this;

“Did they take the flat then?” I’ll ask hopefully.

“No, sorry, they found somewhere else unfortunately, but I showed someone round today who really wants it!”

“Excellent, what happens next?”

“I’ll speak to them tomorrow to finalise the paperwork, hopefully they’ll be in by the end of the week.”

“Good, I’ll speak to you tomorrow then.”

I then phone up the following day and have exactly the same conversation all over again. It is becoming my own personal Groundhog Day, except instead of trying to get into Andi McDowell’s knickers (she’s been rubbish since Hugh Grant knobbed her in Four Weddings anyway) I am thinking of ever more creative ways to castrate my Estate agent, and do the equivalent to his female assistant (booby feely?).

So, my question to the readership is this, do any of you want to rent a recently decorated two bedroom flat with views of a Castle?

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