Word on the street is that a picture can tell a thousand words.

After careful analysis of the above photograph, I’ve condensed a thousand words into 12 specific points.


1. The sheepish looking character in the bottom left is none other than my old flatmate Ceeborg, one of my best pal’s younger brothers, who lived with me for over a year during a beautiful period in the near past.

2. Here’s a selfie he took whilst chilling in the flat, with a gaggle of fine-looking women, the early stages of a good-looking house party in the mixer.

3. No males appear to be present. Just ladies.

4. None of which are his girlfriend.

5. Closer examination of the bottom right reveals that at this particular gathering, narcs abound.

6. And are apparently being thoughtfully laid out on my book of Argentine Estancias.

7. None of which would seem overly remarkable.

8. Apart from one thing.

9. Ceeborg moved out of my flat five months ago, with a casual ‘yeah I’ll drop my set of keys round when I get my plant mate’.

10. No plant was ever collected.

11. This photo is the first thing that landed in my inbox when I touched down from Canada at the back end of the May bank holiday weekend.

12. Which is remarkable, given that last time I checked I wasn’t in the habit of operating a mi casa es su casa open door policy, not when I’m in a different continent, not five months after move-out day, not after over a year of charging a back-breakingly generous £125pw all-in. An agreement that was arranged on the premise he would fill the flat with smoking-hot 26 year old broads. Which I’d say he fell short of, seeing as this photo is three times as many as I ever saw. I mean this whole situation is just one monumental serving of insult to injury.


The sheepish looking character in the bottom left, Dominic by birth, is the rock salt in the seabed that gets extracted to make the salt of the earth. Like Gold to Midas and skittles to the old guy in the skittles ad, everything Ceeborg touches turns to good vibes. Being pissed with him is impossible, it just makes you kind of pissed off with yourself.

So I’ll leave the doghouse for his girlfriend to take care of. Plus this happened over two months ago. Retroactive doghouses are so much more meaningful. Especially when they come out of the blue. And especially on a golden floodlit balmy day such as today, one in the tantalising grip of a weekend on the horizon, a day full of possibilities, the special kind of day only one of mid-summer can bring, when the birdsong from the trees seems to be dancing in the breeze’s embrace, pirouetting in the air in a harmonious chorus just for you.