I called up the electricians about my invisible smoke alarm. They were nice, reasonable and apologetic about it, and are sending out a revised invoice.
Damn. I’d worked myself up to do my best Victor Meldrew impersonation…
…Well there isn’t a smoke alarm! No smoke alarm has been installed! Unless it’s cunningly concealed inside the pile of discarded wires and brick dust your workmen so thoughtfully left in my kitchen…
…No! I don’t care what ‘Barry’ says! The words ‘smoke alarm’ at no point issued forth from his lips during the entire procedure! A large number of other quite unprofessional ones did, but ‘smoke alarm’ was not amongst them!…
…Well if ‘Barry’ or one of your other trained neandertals can be bothered to come down here and show me the smoke alarm he claims to have installed, I’ll happily pay your account. But until then you’re not getting a cent out of me!
(For the record the electricians – one of whom may or may not have been named Barry – were entire professional, and didn’t leave any mess to speak of. You’ve just got to exaggerate wildly and cast random aspersions if you want to channel old Victor).
