After the absolute disaster in housing of September, I had thought that I had moved into a pretty stable and safe place in Shepherds Bush in November.

For most of the month, it was all good, as honeymoon months usually are, then on about the 20th I came downstairs and there was this bailiffs notice on the fridge. It basically said

"The proprietor of the property owes us £6000 in unpaid council tax. Fancy paying up or shall we come round and break your door down, punch you in the face and take your stuff?" or words to that effect.

A round of nervous calls to the bailiffs and the landlady just resulted in the landlady coming over, taking the letter away and "dealing with it". Filing under R for rubbish methinks.

Then another letter comes through warning us last week that a bailiff was due round some time this week and by now the nerves were pretty raw.

"Don't worry about it," My mate PM assured me, "Before they can punch you in the face and remove all your belongings they have to knock and ask politely. Basically they can't come in unless you invite them in. They're a bit like vampires in that respect."

Well that's a relief. The house was summararily decked out in Garlic and crucifixes.

Nothing came of it that time , although we joked that, what with my flat being on the top floor, that the bailiffs would arrive, work their way up the stairs taking whatever they needed up to the value of what the landlord had dodged and my stuff would be safe. That gag was working pretty well until we recieived this. Shit.

Do I LOOK like a Mr Bendidi to you!? What sort of fucking crooks have lived in this place?!

Luckily, that one seems to have come and gone as well, but then last night we got another one, written in big red letters that said that whether we invited them in or not, no amount of Holy Water was gonna stop them from burgling our house. Nice.

So if I take another long break from blogging in the near future, please give either of the companies above a call and have a word.

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