There’s been no light in the stairwell of my block of flats for the last two weeks. At night, it’s common to hear the muffled sound of someone walking into a bicycle and going “ooof” as the handlebars plunge into their groin. And not only has there been no light; the intercom/buzzingup thing (as it’s known in the trade) hasn’t worked either. Companies delivering packages have given up trying to contact anyone within the building, and have started leaving their consignments in a bush in the front garden, after having pushed a note through the door saying “it’s in the bush”. As everyone knows, a package in your hand is worth two in the bush, so one of my neighbours has been hassling the landlord/freeholder to “get it bloody sorted”. I arrived at my flat at midday to find an electrician waiting to get in. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said. I had no rendezvous planned with an electrician, but I let him in anyway. It took him 15 seconds to fix the problem; the fuse under the stairs had gone. He flicked a black switch with his right index finger, and everything came back to life. “Ha! Is that all it was?” I asked. “Yep,” he said. “Sorry to drag you out,” I said. “Where have you come from?” “Southend,” he said. SOUTHEND? The landlord asked an electrician in Southend to drive two hours to Tooting, just to flick a switch? I’ll enjoy refusing to reimburse aforementioned landlord for that particular bill.

Just because I haven’t been posting here in the past week doesn’t mean that nothing’s been happening in my life. In fact, quite the opposite. It’s a tragedy that when there’s stuff going on that’s worth writing about, there’s no time to write about it, and when there is time to write something, all there is to talk about is the state of British TV or how one’s bed-sores are coming on. One thing I would like to register a mega-protest about, though, is the Flora advert that’s currently plastered all over the London Underground. It shows a delicious looking corn on the cob, with the word “Healthy” above it. Below that is a picture of another corn on the cob, with a dollop of Flora margarine melting into it, and the word “Healthier”. Shoot me down for not being a nutritionist, but: Cobblers. I for one will not be trying to extend my lifespan by taking a teaspoonful of Flora in my cup of tea this evening. I hope everyone will follow my example.