Last Wednesday our landlady Miss Lay called to say we were getting air conditioners in the flat, on Thursday at 2 to be precise. I’d been meaning to get a few things done, but got back to let the installation guys in. Two o clock came round and there was a knock at the door. Behind were two men in casual clothing and a woman in a suit. It was only when they were fully inside the house that I realised that they weren’t here to sort out the air conditioning. The leader, one of those sweaty, shady, middle-aged men who can instantly give you the creeps, informed up that he was looking to buy the house. We told him the house wasn’t for sale, that we were renting it and the landlady would have mentioned it if it was. He insisted he was right, nosied around the place for a while, then exited on our continued request.
On Friday night Brent got a phone call in the middle of a class and on the other end of the line was this same dodgy old man. He said he was with the landlady. At this point the phone had to be passed over to an interpreter as Miss Lay does not speak English. The news wasn’t great. The freak is buying the flat, and soon. We have to move out. I’m a bit annoyed about this. She never mentioned for a second that the place was for sale when we signed the contract, let alone that we were going to get thrown out. So we have to leave this very nice place in a month’s time. Why are all landlords such absolute cunts?
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