Last night I had to meet my landlord- the lanky, miserable cretin.

For some reason this joker insists that I pay rent every single month, and if that wasn’t enough- he wants it on time.
When I’m three or four days late because I have important drinking binges I can’t get out of, or just can’t be arsed, he throws a hissy fit.

Yesterday I had to ask one of the guys from work to call and explain why, despite my repeated promises, I would not be transferring the cash directly to his account today, or any other day. Well it all went off, and the two of them had a huge shouting match over the phone.

Little landlord Fauntelroy was threatening to evict me, take money out of my deposit (no doubt to pay for another pair of his horrible white trainers), and have all of my chopsticks snapped in half or whatever. Obviously I didn’t stand for any of that nonsense:
“Tell him I’m not here!”
I said, forcefully.

When we actually met up, of course, he didn’t say a word- either because I’m very much the Stephen Seagull / Vin Diesel type, or because he doesn’t know any english. I handed over the cash in a stern, yet fair manner, and I think we both left knowing who held the moral high ground.