We’re having a new kitchen. I am of course on duty. Monday 6.30am Missus says “byeee!”
6.40am. Fitter rings. “Van’s broken down: I’ll be 4 hours late”
7.00am. “Delivery” First lot of huge boxes arrives
7.30am, 8.15am etc etc “delivery delivery delivery…”
By 10.00 am the kitchen looks like the warehouse scene at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, and my lovely beige hall carpet looks like a WWI battlefield, and the mice are digging trenches in the mud.
11.00am Fitter arrives. “I’ll put down the carpet protector first…”
-----Intermission------
-------Intermission--------
Friday morning. Some of kitchen sort of in. Oven missing.
Fridge missing. Cooker Hood missing. Some cupboards missing. Dishwasher front
missing. I’m in a filthy mood, and now have to wait (waiting is my new
speciality) for the man to come to connect the gas hob and do a Gas Inspection,
so at least I can make scrambled eggs. Have been living on muesli all bastard
week.
Have been told he’ll come late afternoon. 5.45 I open the door to Jack Palance.
“I do gas!” he says. “I Zoltan!!”
Yes of course you are. I can’t believe this guy.
“Err…yes, do come in”
“Cooker where, where? In kitchen?”
No, it’s in the bathroom.
Anyway, he gets out his tools and tinkers away. Connects the gas to the hob
It’s now 6.30, and I have to go out at 6.45 to meet the
missus and friends for supper. “Umm.. will this take much longer? I have to go
out soon.”
“No, very quick”
“Great, well I’ll just leave you to get on with…”
“The beetch!!”
“What?”
“Anja, the beech! I
bloody save her many money, crytwwxychskii….British Gas bastards..ywchyswychies…£8000
I save she never call for certificate…”
“Ummm…”
“Oh, you have gas leak. Hmm. Let me get spray…hmmmm see here…hmmm”
He’s now got his head under the boiler.
“Bloody bastards..British Gas…see, see here this spray…look, look”
He shows me some bottle of spray
“Ah, yes, very nice…so you’ll be finished soon…?”
“£15 it cost me…is best…not the bloody xwschiewchykw…cheap
sheet bloody British Gas use the bastards. Look here, see? here Anya phone
number, see?”
He thrusts his mobile phone at me
“See? See her number here the beetch. September 2012 I do
work. She never calls…Catford..all thee way…British Gas bastards the beetch…”
“Gosh, that’s terrible…so is everything OK?”
One of his detectors starts screeching
“Ah beeg gas leak here…see…the electronic…very bad. Hmmm let
me see. Wait. I open meter…”
He goes to the gas meter and starts poking about. “See…I use best equipment…not like bloody British Gas the
bloody bastards…£6000….she in Catford the beetch. £80 POUND PARKING FINE!! See here…swychkiewsychwerk….oooh very bad
leak…I have to shut all down here.”
It’s now 7.30. I’m an hour late. Zoltan’s threatening to
condemn my gas supply as far as I can make out. I’m getting hysterical. “Look,
I can’t smell gas…can’t we just…er…”
“Very bad very bad. She no get certificate. Then BOOM! The beech…bloody
save her much. Not like British Gas bloody bastard bastards. Many money…see? I
save her…crysweiskych…cheep sheet…bastards…6000!!!”
I’m getting ready to cave in the back of his head with a
shovel and bury him in the garden
when he suddenly says, “Ah, good. 100% see? See? Is OK now. Is feexed. Look, here, she phone number, see. Anja the..”
when he suddenly says, “Ah, good. 100% see? See? Is OK now. Is feexed. Look, here, she phone number, see. Anja the..”
“Fantastic! Great! Phew…ha ha what a relief..”
All smiles now
“Yes!! Is good! Come, I put boiler back on and show you gas
in keetchen…see? All working fine. Now I just put drawers back…”
He puts the drawer
back under the hob. Doesn’t fit. He’s welded the gas pipe to the back of the
drawer.
“Oh bloody sheet. I have to re position pipe…I come back. I
come back tomorrow.
Just as I heft the shovel over his head a jumbo jet lands in
the boiler room.
“BRRROOOOWWWWAAAAAANNNGGGGGGGGG”
Wtf? We take a look. “Hmmm…is fan..hmmmm…how long you have
boiler?
“IT WAS FINE 10 MINUTES AGO!!...”
“Hmmm I take a look. You have bastard British Gas here?”
“What? NO! no British Gas..”
“Hmm..” (tinker tinker)
Mercifully, the jumbo jet taxies quietly away up the runway.
“Ah good, I think just air in pipes see?”
So here I am, Saturday morning, awaiting the Return of
Zoltan.
I have shovel ready. Bloody Bastard.
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