Our Landlady

On the day we moved in to this flat, about five years ago, the landlord was in the kitchen doing something with the washing machine. He was very nice - apologised that the cleaners they had hired to prep the place before we moved in hadn't done a good enough job by his standards and he would, if we so wished, finish the job properly before we moved in. No, we said, we're used to damp, moulding student shit holes, this place looks like a palace, don't worry about it (that and the fact that we had a van full of our stuff sitting out the front). He also said, and I quote, 'If anything goes wrong it's best to tell us about it as soon as you can, because it's in our interests to keep this place in good nick as well as yours'.

That day was unique in two repects - 1) It's the last time either my brother or I have seen the work-shy cunt, and 2) It was the last time they showed any interest in the 'nick' of anything within these walls.

It turns out it's not even his flat - it's the Mrs's - and they have since split up, meaning she is now 'in charge' of it all. I'm using a lot of 'these' here because, when it comes to our landlady (or 'That Bitch' as I've taken to calling her) nothing is as it seems. Or rather, nothing is as she says.

I think we're good tennants - in fact, I bloody know we are beacuse we always pay the rent and we don't phone her every day because the taps leaking or the bath needs re-sealing - we just fix it, get on with it or ignore it. There are some things that she needs to sort out though - like when the washing machine broke or I needed a new mattress. Shit she needs to sort or, at least, pay for. It's the fridge that best demonstrates That Bitch's bone-idle twattyness the best.

About two years ago the fridge was quite obviously fucked. The seals were rotting away and it was making a hell of a racket just trying to keep itself barely below room temperature. So I phone That Bitch, get no answer (as usual) and leave a message. Two weeks go by and nothing. I phone again and leave another message. Another two weeks, nothing. I phone again and she answers. 'Oh yes' she says, 'I was going to call you about that this week. I'm in town next week visiting relatives so I'll sort you out a new fridge while I'm down there'.

'Next week' comes and goes - nothing. I phone again. 'Oh yes, I'm going to arrange it with a local firm. I'll sort it this week and let you know'. Another week, another phone call from me. 'I'll order it today and let you know when they'll deliver it'. Finally an un-provoked response from her - she phones to say it's being delivered on Friday of that week.

Friday comes, Friday goes. No fridge.

I think you can probably see the pattern here, can't you? In fact, I'm getting irritated with her just writing about it so I'm not going to finish the whole story - the point is she's a lying, lazy, impossibly fucking annoying bitch of a woman.

I have put up with it thus far because the rent's cheap and, recently at least, I know I'm getting out fairly soon. But don't worry - I won't be leaving without doing something. I'm not sure what yet, but it'll definitely be something that inconveniences her at least half as much as she has me over the last few years.

The only thing is, what?