Respecting my Elders

My parents are visiting and I’m also about to move from one rented house to another and want my deposit back. For both reasons I spent yesterday cleaning the house – a task only marginally better than writing my thesis and roughly on a par with having my genitalia crushed in a vice.

Why was it so bad?* You wouldn’t ask that if you saw the new life-form that had evolved under our cooker over many an unhygenic millenia. It was composed mainly out of rotting food and mould but several small villages could have been lost in there. When I told it that it had to go it told me to “Respect my Elders” and when I tried to remove it by force it tried to attack me, muttering in ancient tongues long forgotten by all civilised people (possibly Welsh?). I stood no chance and I thought it was going to overpower and consume me, adding a whole 0.0001% to its mass but just as it closed in for the kill it caught sight of the mess behind the fridge and ran away screaming. I’m glad it’s all over….

* Parental advisory: this post contains gross exaggeration, unfunny anthropomorphism and one unfounded slur against Welsh. Those with a sense of humour should probably turn back before it’s too late.