I managed to get the Environmental Officer to come at 11am. I could tell on the phone that he wasn’t interested and probably wanted to just deal with a case of fly-tipping. I took him to the bedroom and asked him to smell the air. He could smell nothing, even though the aroma was still in my nostrils. Basically, he told me, there was nothing we could do and it is perfectly legal to store used car parts in your home, even if they exude toxic fumes that make your neighbours vomit.
I sent him on his way and he paid a visit to Brian the Liar who happened to be just leaving his house. I could hear the lie-machine crank into life and the usual cock-and-bullshit spew forth. The Environmental Health Officer didn’t even get a chance to look around the door. Pathethic. You can tell when Brian the Liar is telling porky pies – his mouth moves.
And so I called the Housing Officer dealing with the case. Unbeknownst to me, she had already paid a visit to the home this morning and told me that Brian the Liar was out. I corrected her and told her that they were in and were hiding from her as they had left at 11.15am when my man was dealing with them. We talked about what actions could be taken and how I had felt very ill and how I would take legal action against the council if I had thought I had been poisoned by this man. She was a good listener and she said it was an emergency case. I look forward to any response – it certainly must have sent her head in a spin because my neighbour Big Phil had been the one to contact her first and caused her previous unsuccessful visit.
After this, I realised that I might need to be check out by a doctor. I’ve lived here for nigh on seven years and never visited the doctor. That’s how fricking tough I am. I phone up the automated system and managed to speak to a receptionist who sounded as if she were 117 years old and would probably spit dust from her dessicated mouth as she spoke.
The conversation went like this:
Me: “Hi. I’d like to speak to the doctor. I just want some advice before I make an appointment.”
Her: “Well the doctors are busy.”
Me: “Could you give them my number and call me back.”
Her: “No. They can’t do that. What exactly is your problem.”
Me: “I think I might have been poisoned and want some general advice.”
Her: “Well you’ll have to call back in 5 minutes when the doctor is free.”
I am glad it wasn’t a real emergency…