31 January 1998 - ESTATE AGENT
I’ve given up the hedgehog life to be an estate agent. The trouble is, I get this sneaking suspicion that my employer is either corrupt, or mad, or corrupt and mad. You see, he asked me to show a young couple around a property which turned out to be a couple of carrier bags weighted down with a brick. When the couple lifted the brick off to have a look inside, the bags blew away. My boss accused me of losing him the sale because I was spiteful.
2 February 1998 - ESTATE AGENT
Some of the properties my boss makes me show people round have to be seen to be believed. Last night he made me try and convince an elderly couple that a Toby jug on to of a bird table was a penthouse apartment. Unfortunately, when the old man tried to get inside for a sleep, he pulled the bird table over, and the Toby jug smashed into four pieces on a stone. I hurriedly tried to explain that this was supposed to happen, but the couple just walked away sighing.
3 February 1998 - ESTATE AGENT
I’m seriously thinking of quitting my job as an estate agent. Last night I was attacked by a couple of clients who reckoned I’m not trying to sell their house fast enough. It’s hardly my fault that my boss is too tight to afford proper For Sale signs - we have to use stuffed flamingos, jackdaws and puffins, with the words "for sale" written on their beaks in brown felt tip pen. I might suggest that we use larger birds.