Weirdlord and Bruce

My landlord is weird. He arranged a viewing for the downstairs room, so I made sure that I was going to be in to meet the person. Fifteen minutes before the person arrived, there was a knock at the door. The landlord.

“Hello DTRMCR.”
“Hello Ben. I’m a bit surprised to see you here.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, I said that I’d happily show around any prospective tenants.”
“Really DTRMCR? That’s unusual…”
“In my experience, that’s pretty standard. When I was looking at houses, I wanted to meet the people that I might end up living with, as well as see the house. And I wanted to ask questions that I wouldn’t ask the landlord.”
“Questions?”
“Like questions about how good the landlord is. For example.”
“Oh… oh… right. Well if you’re happy to show people around, DTRMCR, then that’s great. I’d really appreciate that.”
“No problem.”
“Right, well I’ll just hoover this room out and get off, and you can show Bruce around.”

So Ben scurried into the downstairs front room and he turned on the hoover. It was 4.50 at this point. I read the paper. Hoover hoover hoover. Paper paper paper. Tick tick tick. 4.55. It’s a smallish room. It doesn’t have a carpet. What was taking so long? Hoover hoover hoover. Read read read. Tick tick tick. Moment. Of. Realisation. Ben was stalling so that he could show the person round the house. Ben had said yes, but then he had gone and acted in entirely the opposite fashion. What a dick! Knock knock knock!

“Oh, it looks like they’re here. I’ll show Bruce round, and you can show the next guy round okay?”

Thanks Ben, you sneaky liar. So Ben showed Bruce around the house, and I sat in the living room with the paper. Bruce was 38 years old. Fully ten years older than me. Bruce likes television, and has lived at home in Aberdeen with his parents for the last year. He’s unemployed. Ben was like an uncool mate all the way through the chat. He bigged up Chorlton despite not really knowing what he was talking about.

“Chorlton has its own folk bar, you know. You see some real characters in there!”

Dulcimer is just a bar, you dick, not some mystical realm of elves, lutes and lyres. I couldn’t wait for the conversation to end. It didn’t. Knock knock knock! The second guy arrived. Bruce left. Ben looked at me. I looked back sternly. He went to answer the door. There were voices down the corridor, I think I heard them say…

“Hi, I’m the landlord. I’m just on my way out, actually, so DTRMCR will show you round.”

At last!

Later on Bruce called. Ben hadn’t actually shown him the kitchen. Sheesh!