Well, it’s been a busy day at Sketchie Basements and I’m not talking about productivity.
Being a bit of a hermit I will confide in you, loyal readers, that every time the door bell rings unexpectedly I wonder who it is wanting to murder me, because as we are all aware you are more likely to be murdered by someone you know and people you know often ring the door bell. It was no different when the door bell rang earlier this afternoon.
It turned out to be someone enquiring about the ownership of the satellite dishes on the front of the house, particularly in relation to their being in a conservation area and therefore highly illegal (I would imagine). My South London routes tend to predispose me to not being a grass but as I suspect they belonged to the chap upstairs and the chap upstairs tends to be a bit of a ship biscuit, I suggested that maybe they belonged to his flat, but that I didn’t really know for sure. The lady thanked me, handed over a warning letter just in case I had any requirement for a satellite dish other than watching TV in my tellyless hovel, and departed.
When the door bell rang again a little while later, I took a look through the peep hole. Upon seeing what looked very much like an officer of Her Majesty’s police, my immediate thought was “Crikey! I didn’t realise the satellite dish was that illegal!” When I opened the door, an officer for the support of Her Majesty’s community asked me if a Mr J. lived at the premesis. I assured her there was no such person living at this address. She then asked me if anyone at this address owned a black Vespa. Well well, I thought, my grass senses twinkling. Having informed her that the chap upstairs does indeed own a Vespa I closed the front door and went about my business but not before she called back over her shoulder to tell me it had been stollen and found abandoned at a street round the corner. Well, well, well.
The door bell rang a number of times following this and I offered assistance on how to contact the chap upstairs – his telephone number was on the side of his work van parked across the street, stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Sherlock, where to store the Vespa, and the fact that the owner wasn’t a Mr J. at all but rather a Mr D.M. (such a grass! Yeah, I know, I can’t help it…) But hear this, he deserves it, read on.
When the officer of support for Her Majesty’s community telephoned Mr D.M. to inform him of what happened and to advise him that she didn’t want to leave it on the drive in case the thieves came back, instead of thanking her profusely and offering to shower her with gifts of gratitude he became abusive, taking issue mainly with the fact that she’d pointed out the Vespa had not been secured in any way. Being abusive to someone who is trying to help you just because you feel a bit stupid for not chaining up your bike is not acceptable. It is even more unacceptable if you are abusive to the point where the person you are abusing feels forced to end the call. That is major negative karma points, you diphead.
Still, we stowed the Vespa, with some considerable difficulty, round the side of the house and locked the gate, with the expressed hope that said considerable difficulty will be more than replicated when he attempts to retrieve it. Harhar…
Note to self: Don’t mess with skinny female community support officers. They are ripped!
KarmaPs for helping to make sure the bike didn’t get re-stolen even though he really didn’t deserve it: +1
FRPs for spending way too much recently and ending up back in the overdraft when I’d done so well to get out of it: -10
FitnePs for running and trying to get ripped enough to be PCSO: +5
FitnePs for pretty much just living off jaffa cakes today: -2
CRPs for being SICK TO DEATH OF SEPSIS, CARDIOVASCULAR INSTABILITY, INOTROPES, ORGAN DYSFUNCTION, CARDIAC OUTPUT MONITORING AND DISSEMINATED INTRAVASCULAR COAGULOPATHY. I QUIT!: -5
Total so far…
- Karma: +20
- FRP: +135.1
- Relationships: +4
- Family: +10
- Friends: +14 [Supplementary PPs: +2]
- Career: +11
- Fitness: +5
- General: +9
- Hospitality: +2