Wednesday, June 18, 2008


On Sunday I took possession of a new The Flatmate. It's been about two months since the old one decamped to the Hills and set himself up with a rustic little hermitage surrounded by forests and bogans.

The new The Flatmate is a recent immigrant from England, working for an engineering company in our burgeoning mining sector. He's only been in the country for a couple of weeks, and as such he owns nothing but his trusty bicycle, a mattress and some clothes. He doesn't even own any food - last night I got home and found him trying to eat dry bread and a jar of cocktail olives for dinner. But other than that, he's settling in nicely. I've given him a detailed tour of the house, showing him how to work the washing machine and where the coffee cups are kept and when the bins go out. He's had a few questions, and oddly enought the answers to most of his questions have involved violence:

What's wrong with the garden gate?

It jams. You have to kick it.

And the front door?

It sticks in cold weather. Try kneeing it.

And the garage door?

Worn gears. Just shout angrily at it.

And can I use these expensive vintage Italian bowls for my Special K?

Only if you want to die.


Blogger phaedrus said...

Here's hoping that he relishes the 47th screening of "Laser Mission" as much as the rest of us do.

If not, just set the car chase scene on permanent repeat. He'll come around.

11:50 AM  
Blogger Blandwagon said...

Actually tonight I'm screening 'MST3K: The Movie'. It's better that he finds out what he's in for sooner rather than later.

2:19 PM  

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