Disclaimer: This blog post isn’t going to benefit anyone but myself. The only reason i’m writing it is so my best friend reads it and becomes fully aware of his disgusting act of betrayal.
Now, let me tell you a little something about my best friend- not because it’s relevant, but because I want to ridicule him for the strain he’s putting on our relationship by his insensitive life choices.
My friend has a receding hairline which he unsuccessfully tries to disguise with a shaven head (WE CAN STILL SEE IT, YOU HEAR ME?!?). He has a noticeable scar on his forehead, which was given birth to immediately after he got bottled around the head when he tried to defend a stripper from a group of people that descented from the travelling community. I’m not joking. He takes shelter under a sunbed several times a week, and he’s covered in cheesy tattoos. I think one of them says, “They can hate, as long as they fear” or something ridiculous like that. That particular tattoo is kind of ironic actually, because he’s short, slim, and extremely feminine looking. No one is going to fear him for shit.
So, try to imagine a tangerine-toned chap, covered in cheesy Take That lyrics, with a scarred head shaped like a dry-roasted peanut. That’s my friend.
He’s recently come into a bit of money and he’s looking to buy his first property. All good. Good for him, right? Wrong! Fuck him. Let me tell you for why…
Last week we were spending some quality time together in Nandos, where we started discussing how his property hunt was unfolding. He mentioned he had viewed a few properties and even put forward an offer on one of them. As the discussion progressed, I asked him which Estate Agency he was using. Turned out it’s an agency I’ve had dealings with in the past, so I asked him what the name of his agent was. Before he mentioned his name, he may as well have lowered himself onto his knobbly knees and given his agent a blowie right there and then because he couldn’t have praised the agent more. After his eyes eventually stopped rolling at the back of his head, he managed to mutter his name…[INSERT THE FOOL’S NAME]
I knew the guy, but not through business. In fact, he wasn’t even an Estate Agent when I knew him, he was a bum that sloshed around on a sofa all day playing computer games and eating kebabs, while his girlfriend funded his lifestyle. I used to be good friends with his girlfriend; we used to hangout frequently, which was something he didn’t like one bit. Although, he was always civil to me in the past, but it was clear that he was waiting for a reason, any old reason, to unleash his wrath on me. He just needed a slight nudge. Being the understanding and jovial character that I am, I totally appreciated and understood why he had that hostility towards me. It simply boiled down to basic maths. I had a flourishing career while he had nothing to do but get his game controller greasy with congealed kebab fat. I was less than half his size, while his body resembled a jacket potato, which must have been extra demoralising since he genuinely labelled himself as a professional dancer. It really was all about the math. He had reasons to hate me, besides from the fact that I frequently socialised with his guuuurl and drooled over her breasts.
One day his girlfriend (my good friend) was around my house because I was helping her out with some work. During one of our many breaks, she logged onto her Facebook to check the recent activity. While I was sat next to her, I took over the keyboard and changed her status to “[insert her name] is doing [insert my name].”
I don’t even know why I did it. It wasn’t particularly funny, I just did it, and we just laughed it off. Literally with in 10 seconds of updating her status, her phone started ringing. It was him. What happened next was pretty amazing. She picked up, and I could instantly hear him frantically screaming down the phone like someone had pried open his hands and snatched his kebab away; he was literally going into meltdown, asking her why that was her status. Her response was, “He was just messing around, it wasn’t anything serious” He then asked to talk to me, so she passed the phone over. Great.
I put him on loud speaker while he redirected his rage onto me. At the top of his voice (still frantically screaming), he kept enquiring why I updated her status and where I lived. He insisted I should meet him face-to-face like a man. I’m not sure what was going on in his head, but in a drastic turn of events, he then started informing me how well developed his penis is in comparison to mine (no, he had never seen my penis, from what I was aware). I think he thought we were tangled into a situation where we were trying to insult one another, but I actually didn’t say anything because I didn’t have a chance, but that actually made no difference because I was speechless. I had no idea what was going on, or why he had taken the conversation into this direction. One minute he was asking me why I updated her status, then he was telling me to meet him, and then he was providing me with graphic details about the shape of his penis. Did he hate me or want to make love to me?
Funny thing was (besides from the fact he was like 28, a grown man), he was shouting so much that he was exhausting himself; his speech started to slow down and his sentences were being broken down by continuous panting. But he didn’t care, he kept going, loudly. He had enough fury running through his veins to go on forever. I could physically hear his body shutting down as he was gasping for air, almost as if he was running out of battery. He stopped making sense 5mins after he started shouting, like his brain was slowly being cut from oxygen, which was very unfortunate because he isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed even at full capacity. He eventually reduced himself into panting and dribbles, and the occasional word, but he stuck to the inappropriately loud volume. Fair play to him. All I kept saying was, “Calm down, there’s no need to cry about this” Unsurprisingly, that just fuelled his rage. He must have shouted for about 10 minutes non-stop. Poor guy. Great perseverance though.
I have genuinely never heard anyone reach such high decibels for so long, for no real reason. At one point, I was almost concerned for his health. I think I ended up putting the phone down on him to put him out of his misery; there was no way he was going to stop. I’m pretty sure he would have keeled over and died of exhaustion if I hadn’t of ended it. You could say I saved a life. Hero.
It wasn’t surprising that my friend left a few moments after. I think she was more embarrassed than anything else.
In hindsight, my biggest regret: failing to record the damn thing.
After I told my best friend this story, he laughed and said… “Yeah, he’s still a top bloke”
I don’t expect my friend to stop using this madman as an estate agent, but I want him to be aware that he’s dealing with a psychotic parasite, and he’s betrayed me by utilizing this guy. More importantly, by me accepting this situation, I’ve earned myself a “get out of jail” card, which means I can, for example, sleep with his girlfriend without him showing any form of anger. Fair is fair.
Moral of the story? Everyone wears a suit to work (especially estate agents).
Disclaimer: I'm just a simple landlord blogger; I'm not qualified to give legal or financial advice. Any information I share is my opinion based on my personal experiences as an active landlord, and should never be construed as legal or professional advice. For more information, please read my full disclaimer.