This week has not got off to a good start.
Firstly, that lot in the upstairs flat kept us up all night with their loud music and constant shouting, which Tony reckons in unacceptable in a civilised country like England. He quite rightly says that if people like them want to play their bongo music, and scream and shout whilst stomping their feet heavily on their floor (our ceiling), then it's best that they return to their native africa, where that sort of thing is the norm.
And now, if that's not bad enough, our toilet is blocked!
The boy Tony has already had a go at repairing what he calls the "flushing mechanism," but admits that plumbing is not one of his strong points. The stench has now become unbearable, and as I write, Tony is trying to contact our landlord, a greek gentleman who goes by the name of Stavros.
Unfortunately, Stavros is nowhere to be found, so in the meantime, to mask the smell of Tony's bowel contents, we've deciced that we're going to get a couple of cheeseburgers each, bring them back to the flat, and use the smell of them to counteract the odour coming from the bathroom. Of course, it's only a temporary measure, but as Tony says, it's better than nothing.
Fortunately, our mate Glen is coming to see us tonight, and although, like us, he knows fuck all about plumbing, I'm sure that when he gets his hands on Stavros, he'll look forward to giving the greek bastard a good beating, which Glen reckons is long overdue.
We're now off in search of our burgers!