I went round the house of a friend recently, for the first time after her new boyfriend had moved in. The place was a tip.
I had met her as she was coming home after being away for a week. ‘Up to her place for tea and meet her fella?’
‘Absolutely,’ so up the hill we trudged. The shitalanche was unbelievable. He hadn’t the faintest clue how to keep a place bearable.
I was very tempted to call his parents and demand maintenance payments, as they utterly failed to teach him basic life skills. Or they taught him, and he’s just a chauvinist. Maybe then I could embarrass him into lifting the Hoover.